


Castiel Rising

by onceuponaplot



Series: Castiel Rising [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demon Castiel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponaplot/pseuds/onceuponaplot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sold his soul in a crossroads deal to bring his brother back from the dead, and he was dragged to Hell for his troubles. When he finds himself suddenly back on Earth - and no longer looking like a hellhound's chew toy - it's a mystery as to who brought him back and why. Until a dark haired, blue eyed demon shows up, claiming to be the one who gripped Dean tight and raised him from Perdition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a gifset from tumblr.

The earth was dark, damp and crumbly between his fingers and falling into his mouth and eyes.

Like waking up in a coffin wasn’t enough, it had to be buried too.

Not that he was complaining. ‘Buried alive’ was much better than forty years in- No, Dean didn’t really want to think about that.

The tiny, shifting cavern in the dirt seemed brighter now. With his next reach upward, Dean hand climbed into nothing but open air. Finally.

Dean wrangled himself from the earth, dirty and exhausted by the time he finally flopped down, free.

He was out.

Wiping the dirt from his eyes as best he could and spitting out what had managed to get in his mouth, the Winchester surveyed the area around him.  
On all sides, the trees were leveled like some kind of bomb had gone off. Closer, the ground and some of the trunks were scorched and blackened like the remains of some giant bonfire. A twisted, charred wooden cross was stood carefully behind him, and Dean could make out a few letters carved into it: --an --nc---s-er.

Alone, stranded in the middle of a destroyed forest, Dean Winchester’s gut felt like it had been filled with ice.

-

It took Dean hours of walking to find the first sign of civilization: a dilapidated old gas station that looked like it had seen better days. There was a pay phone outside and Dean spent five minutes searching the phone for any abandoned change he might use to make a call upon realizing that he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a lighter in his pocket.

When Dean had thoroughly exhausted any chance of a phone call, he turned his attention to the building a few yards away.

No lights were on when he peered through the dusty windows, and a sign in the door proclaimed that the business was “SORRY WE’RE CLOSED.” Dean smashed in one of the windows and let himself in. He made a beeline for some bottled water first, downing half a bottle with hardly any pause, thirsty after his long hike. Dean explored the rest of the mini-mart as he finished the rest of the bottle. It had a typical assortment of junk food, simple groceries and magazines. By the cash register was a small selection of things like batteries, lighters, even a few cheap Swiss army knives.

Dean had just focused his attention on getting the register open when he heard it. It tickled at his senses, a soft, barely there whispering at his ears. Lilting and smooth and somehow powerful, it wound around him and Dean’s hackles rose.

It disappeared suddenly, a half second before the windows shattered and the most god-awful sound Dean had ever heard split the air. He dropped to the floor, covering his face and ears to protect them from both the sound and flying glass.

The ground rumbled and shook, tossing bags and boxes from their shelves; a picture frame fell on Dean’s left and that glass fractured too, showering Dean with more shards.

The ground still quivering under him, the hunter shoved himself to his feet and grabbed the first container of sale he laid hands on. Not bothering with the blown-out windows or the lone, rickety door, Dean drew a thick white circle on the floor around the register and hunkered down.

Soon enough the rumbling subsided and the shrieking noise was nothing but a bad memory. Dean grabbed a bag from one shelf, tossed in some food, water and salt. He left the shambles of the store behind him only after he had messily broken into the register and pocketed some cash, leaving it behind him as quickly as humanly possible.

It was another few hours before Dean found a car to hotwire and drive towards Bobby’s. It was even longer before he gave in to exhaustion and stopped at the first motel in sight. The receptionist, cranky at the early hour when he arrived, eyed Dean’s tattered, dirty state, but didn’t ask questions. Dean was thankful when she handed over the room key, and collapsed as soon as he had finished what rudimentary protections he could set in place with his limited supplies.

The hunter was out cold for hours, waking only when a cleaning lady opened the door and apologized for disturbing him before hurrying out. Taking that as his cue to get up, Dean first went to take a shower.

The puffy, scarred skin of his shoulder gave him pause when he took off his shirt, and he investigated it more closely. Angry and red, it somehow didn’t hurt at all. Dean didn’t even feel an unusual tug on his skin from the mark, and he frowned at it in the mirror. Was that- It was in the shape of a hand?

A frown still etched deep in his face, Dean make quick work of scrubbing the dirt from his skin and hair, indulging in the hot spray for only a few seconds before he got out and dressed. He grabbed a small breakfast of a muffin only because the woman at the diner refused to let him go before he agreed to take the pastry along with his coffee, and then he was on the road again.

-

Bobby called him an idjit the second the older hunter was certain that Dean was human and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

Dean wilted, suddenly weary despite the nervous energy that had filled him just moments before. He supposed it was relief, as bobby led him from the kitchen to the living room’s battered old couch. Relief that he was in the closest place he had to home. Relief that someone else knew he was here. Relief that he was no longer alone after three days of driving and however many months he had been gone.

That he wasn’t there.

Bobby forced Dean to eat and then claim one of the beds in the spare room upstairs before he would even discuss Sam’s location. Dean grumbled and complained, but in the end Singer had his way and Dean was lying on the single he made his own any time he and Sam stayed at the scrapyard. He stayed up for hours, eyes scanning the familiar walls, sheets scratching against his skin like they always did.

The whisper-song came back at some point, quieter than it had been at the gas station, slower. No window-shattering blast followed it, and this time Dean simply closed his eyes and listened. He had no explanation for the noise, not even an idea of where to begin, and even though he trusted Bobby almost as much as Sam, Dean did not want to share this with him. This was…special, somehow. His, and his alone.

Dean couldn’t explain how, but he knew that it didn’t want to hurt him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t unfriendly. It was simply…there.

The hunter’s breathing and mind slowed as the voice – the only way he could think to describe the noise – crooned in his ear; it was a soothing rumble that reminded Dean of the Impala’s hearty purr.  
Dean was drifting off, having been lulled into sleep, when the first and only clear word came through.

‘Soon.’

He’d forgotten it by morning.

-

Convincing Sam of Dean’s humanity was both easier and harder than convincing Bobby, but between the two older hunters they accomplished it eventually.

The hard part came after.

Dean may have been a real, living, breathing human, but he wasn’t supposed to be. He should have been dead and buried, a painful memory fading into nothing. Dean fears that the deal had somehow been voided, that Sam could drop dead any second now that Dean was no longer in the Pit, clawed at his chest like the hellhounds of so many months before. That could not happen. Dean sacrifice should have guaranteed that.

The murmuring made itself heard again after several stressful days of ‘what could have dug Dean out of Hell’ that yielded no results. The decision had been made the day before that he, Sam and Bobby would go to see an old friend of the grizzled hunter. Dean had relinquished driving rights to Sam earlier that day, so Dean closed his eyes and sank further into the seat. He focused on the low sound as Sam guided the Impala swiftly down the sunny highway.

When they stopped for a short break to stretch their limbs, Dean wasn’t exactly relaxed, but he was no longer tense like a cornered animal.

The three men reached the home of one Pamela Barnes just after two. According to Bobby, she was a psychic who’d be able to help them figure out what had nabbed Dean and brought him topside.

Dean stood by, a mask of easy confidence on his face. The background hum of the voice still curled around him, and Dean almost swore it felt like it was another person, standing just behind him to his right.

Soon, when supplies had been gathered and arranged to Pamela’s liking, Dean, Sam and Bobby sat at her bidding while she took the chair at the head of the table. The psychic stretched out her hands and the men did the same, grabbing hold and forming a circle. Pamela freed one hand.

“I’ll need to touch something that it touched,” she said with a smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Didn’t touch me there,” he chuckled and hesitated for a second before tugging off his flannel shirt off and pushing back the sleeve of his t-shirt.

Pamela’s low whistle was background noise as Sam gasped, “Dean!” and Bobby hissed a low, “Damn, boy, you never mentioned that before.”

“It grabbed me there, I think,” Dean responded quickly, avoiding eye contact with Bobby or his brother. “Can we just get this over with?”

He could have sworn the whispering turned to laughter before it disappeared without a trace, and Dean’s mind felt disturbingly quiet without it. He shook it off as Pamela aligned her hand over the scar.

The ritual felt like it was milliseconds and millennia long at the same time as Pamela invoked whatever spirit or force had turned its attention to Dean. Just when Pamela was starting to tense up, her orders to the invisible thing growing more powerful, wind howled around the room.

It tore fiercely at Dean’s hair and clothing, tossing objects from their places on shelves and windowpanes and tables. The circle of their hands broke as they moved to shield themselves with their arms. Dean was getting ready to rise and move to be closer to Bobby and Sam when the air stilled.

A man stood in the corner of the room. Tall, dark haired in a neat, dark suit, he watched the four humans like they were something new and unknown.

“Who the hell are you,” Bobby growled, standing abruptly. Dean reached for the waistband of his jeans, where he had begun carrying Ruby’s knife after his resurrection. Sam had grabbed what appeared to be an umbrella and was brandishing it like a sword.

The man surveyed them for another few seconds before he announced, “Inias,” like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I am called Inias.”

“Well, Inias, what the Hell are you and why did you bring me back?” Dean fixed the stranger with a glare as he waited for the answer.

Again, like it was something everyone should know, Inias said, “I am an Angel of the Lord, and I was the one given the task of saving you from Hell.”

“What a joke!” laughed a new, previously unheard voice. Dean spun again.

This man was also dark haired, but shorter with more muscle than the thin Inias. His hair was messy, wild above his forehead. Deep blue denim and a dark v-neck sweater over a white button up and blue tie left no large pockets or for hidden weapons on him.

Dark blue eyes looked past Dean to lock on the supposed angel. Pamela produced a shotgun from below her table and pointed it at the second man. “Name,” she barked, “and why you’re here.”

The man’s eyes danced over to her with a lazy smile. “Oh Pam, you were the one who called me. It’s not my fault fancy feathers over here tried to beat me to the punch.”

“Lies,” Inias said stiffly.

“Really?” the new man said in surprise. “Are you sure? Last I checked I was the one who ventured the Pit. There wasn’t a single trace of grace to be found, and you of all people should know that no angel would get that deep into Hell without some kind of wounds.”

Dean moved around the table to stand with the others at his side. Shifting his grip on the hilt of the knife, Dean used it to point at both of the strange new men. “You can fight about whaever this is later. Which one of you got me out? Now.”

“I did,” came from Inias at the same time the unnamed man announced, “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition, Dean Winchester.”

Dean considered both answers for a moment. Sam stepped forward as he did and asked, “Why?”

Inias was first this time, repeating, “I was the one given this task. It was my duty to complete it.”

Sam turned to the other man. “The Righteous Man was on the rack for forty years and there was no sign of any angels coming to take him out. I took matters into my own hands. My mark is on his shoulder, you can see for yourselves.”

“You can hardly trust the word of Hellspawn,” Inias interrupted before anyone could look to Dean. The still unnamed man – demon – sighed and rolled his eyes.

“That isn’t quite how I planned to break the news, thank you. I suppose you’ll want to exorcise me now. Call for me when you’re ready to talk rationally.” He tossed a business card on Pamela’s table, then winked. “Some other time, boys.”

The demon collapsed inward, a dark cloud of navy smoke replacing the man. It rushed from the room though a window, skirting the angel and humans in a rush of heat and rumbling noise.

“Balls,” Bobby muttered to himself and took off his cap.

Dean picked up the card. It was plain, with only one word written on it in an elaborate font: Castiel.

The hunter set the card back down and looked at the ground, contemplative.

Castiel.

Something about it seemed familiar, but Dean just couldn’t place why. The memories he had shoved to the back of his consciousness called to him, but Dean forcefully kept them away. He was never thinking of Hell again as long as he had any say in the matter. He never wanted to relive those moments; it was bad enough they showed up in his nightmares of fire, screams and pain.

Dean hardly heard Pamela, Sam and Bobby telling the angel to take a hike. Inias protested, spewing lines like ‘God has a job for you, Dean Winchester.’ Soon enough he was convinced to leave, and he did with one final warning (‘We’ll see each other again soon.’).

Sam was relegated to the passenger seat for the drive back. Dean needed to distract himself with the drive, needed to feel the shudder of an engine at his feet and the Impala’s smooth steering wheel under his fingers.

The drive back to Bobby’s went in a blur of road and open fields.

-

He secluded himself to think as soon as he could.

Dean wandered among the stacks of cars with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. This Castiel, whoever he was, was a demon. The hunter couldn’t help but think of Ruby. She had helped Sam and him time after time, and she was a demon. Maybe he was like that?

He had pulled Dean from Hell, after all. Castiel had been sincere enough in that; Inias had made no mention of the scar, only Castiel.

They didn’t have to trust him, not yet. “Maybe we can just hear him out.”

“I’m glad. You’re ready to listen then?”

Dean spun, Ruby’s knife brandished before he fully realized what was happening.

Castiel was perched several yards away on the rusty hood of an old sedan. His face was blank, but his eyes seemed to dance with a light all their own as he watched Dean fumble for a response. Full of humor, his voice came out again, this time saying, “Gotcha.”

Dean set his jaw and pulled back his shoulders, returning the knife to its sheath. “Even if I decide to believe for a minute that you dragged me out of Hell, how the fuck did you do it? Most of you have enough trouble clawing out without some human in tow.”

Castiel shot Dean a pointed look. “If you believe for a minute that an angel could possibly harm a human – the one creature God told them to help above all others – then you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for. Angels don’t burn that hot. Demons do. And let me guess: you’ve only had run-ins with some nasty black-eyes, haven’t you? Had a little too much fun up here and started causing trouble that caught the Winchesters’ eyes?”

Dean nodded silently, refraining from mentioning Lilith or Azazel.

Blue eyes rolled. “Then yes, it would be difficult for them. Nearly impossible. But they’re not me,” Castiel announced with a smirk.

Dean decided to roll with it. “And who would that be, exactly?”

“I don’t want to brag, but my Father’s king.”

He felt his eyes widen. “Lucifer?”

Castiel made a face. “No. Crowley. King of Hell. Lucifer is an angel on time-out because he threw a temper tantrum.”

Dean was silent for several minutes before he said slowly, “Let me get this straight – you’re the prince of all of Hell and you decide to save me?”

“Well, eventually. Right now just of the Crossroads, but we have a plan. And yes. Is that so surprising?” Castiel sounded so genuinely curious, head tilting to the side and eyes squinted.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because the Righteous Man was well on his way to fulfilling his role in Lilith’s plan to free the Morningstar from his cage, and there wasn’t a whiff of angel grace anywhere near the Pit. Because I’ve happened to grow fond of Earth on my infrequent visits and I’d rather not see it destroyed by Lucifer’s wrath. Because you were on the Rack for decades and you would have spent decades more if I hadn’t intervened. There’s a slew of reasons. Take your pick of any of them. What matters is that I did.”

Dean let a bark of humorless laughter escape him. “Yeah, because a demon cares that I was on the Rack. I thought that was grade A entertainment for all of you. Better than anything else?”

“We all remember the Rack,” the demon said bluntly. “It’s why we are the way we are. The only difference between the drones and the generals is that we don’t lose our minds to it.” Castiel looked out across the salvage yard as he continued, “The demons on the Rack are cut from different cloth, so to speak. Just because one of us thinks it better than anything else the universe has to offer doesn’t mean we all do.”

Castiel hopped down from the car he had been sitting on and approached Dean. He stood closer than Dean would have liked, but managed to stay just outside Dean’s bubble of personal space for the most part. “There’s a war coming, Winchester. And I’d like to have you fighting alongside me if that’s at all possible.”

“Again: why would you do that?”

The demon smiled again, but it wasn’t so harsh this time. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d almost call it fond. “I kept the worst away from you down there for the better part of a few decades, Dean; you grew on me. And from what I’ve seen when I’ve checked up on you, you could use someone to help you out. You have questions, and I have a lot of answers. You’re strong, and with me both of us could be even stronger. I can promise that you won’t regret working with me.”

Dean’s answer was swift and certain: “I don’t make deals with demons.”

He recognized the flaw in his reply almost immediately after, of course. It’s not like Castiel didn’t already know, hadn’t already seen with his own eyes the evidence of Dean’s deal.

The man didn’t mention it, thankfully. “I’m not proposing a deal,” he said instead. “I’m proposing an alliance.” He stuck out his arm.

Dean watched it; watched the way it didn’t so much as shake or waver a millimeter as Castiel waited for a response, the way it transitioned into thin wrists and strong arms covered now by a tan trench coat as well as the black sweater, up to that piercing blue stare and hair that looked like it had gone through a hurricane.

Dean reached out and gave the demon’s hand two firm shakes. He paused after a second when he came to a realization.

“What did you mean you ‘checked up’ on me?”

Castiel’s answer was a smile and another of his exploding acts, blue smoke wrapping around Dean and fading from view.

‘I’ll see you again soon, Dean,’ the whispering song called into his ear and the hunter froze. ‘We have lots of work to do, you and I.’ And then it was gone, and Dean was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean cursed and ducked in time for a teapot to fly by his head and smash against the far wall. The demon responsible for the pottery’s trajectory frowned, eyes narrowing and filming over into darkness. “I expected more from a Winchester. You’re all the big guns are talking about downstairs and some of the weaklings live in fear of you. But look at you,” the demon waved one hand in contempt. “You can’t even draw a simple Devil’s Trap when you have a little distraction.”

Another piece of the tea set went flying, saucers breaking like tiny bombs around the Winchester’s feet. Dean danced away from the sharp pieces of porcelain that flew at his jean-clad legs.

“This is pathetic.”

“Well I’m sorry we haven’t exactly gone one-on-one with the strongest demons in Hell before! This territory is a bit new!”

Castiel sneered. “You’re the one who killed Azazel, aren’t you? This should be easy compared to that. Draw a Devil’s Trap and  _trap_  me before I make it to the knife block.” The dark haired demon waved his hand at the sideboard where several lines of dishes and other kitchen supplies stood ready and waiting for Castiel’s use. A wooden block filled with about a dozen knives stood at the end of the first row.

Dean hated him.

“That was different!” Dean shouted. The hunter swore again as Castiel flung a mixing bowl at his stomach. “Watch it, you son of a bitch!”

One of the demon’s eyebrows quirked upwards but he gave no other visible reaction. A cast iron pot splintered one of the boards mere inches from Dean’s foot.

“How am I supposed to fucking crouch down and draw a whole goddamn trap on the floor around you if you keep throwing things at me!”

This seemed to be the last straw for Castiel, who threw his hands in the air and huffed, “Who said you needed to draw it on the floor? Where in the  _Hunter’s Guide to Hell_  does it say the trap needs to be on the floor? Just draw one on the wall and when I’m trapped put another one on the floor a few feet away so I can’t erase or break it easily! If you want to be fancy draw another one on the adjacent wall and you’ll have me trapped just as effectively as a Devil’s Trap on the ground or ceiling.”

A pile of spoons battered Dean’s back and he sprang into action. He had the main circle finished before he had to jump away from a plate with cats painted around the edge, and he had finished most of the inner symbols by the time Castiel sent a salad bowl hammering into his knee.

“I’m still not seeing the reason so many of my peers think you’re all that impressive, Dean!”

“Fuck you, Castiel!” Dean called as he finished the last line and something clunked heavily back onto the sideboard. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see that the knife block had fallen onto its side, everything else from its row gone. “You were actually going to throw knives at me?”

“I said I would, so yes, Dean, I was going to throw knives at you. You completed the first trap though, so I didn’t. Can’t, actually. It’s now outside my range.” A placemat hit Dean in the face.

“Hey!”

“You haven’t finished yet, I’m not completely contained. Draw another, over there,” Castiel waved his hand again. Dean went to comply with a scowl and a napkin landed on his head. When he shot a look at Castiel, the demon had his arms crossed over his chest and an expectant look on his face.

“Is that necessary?”

“I have the linens in my circle. I’m an angry demon trying to kill you and I’m not going to stop just because the tools available aren’t very effective. Be happy I don’t have any of the pots.”

There was a small pile of towels and napkins at Dean’s back by the time the second circle was completed. The silence of the otherwise abandoned house was broken by slow clapping. “Bravo. That only took a century.”

Dean stalked up to the demon. “You try going through that, see how capable you are!”

Castiel rolled his eyes but said nothing else, sarcasm effectively reigned in for now. “I’ve faced that and worse, but I’m not going to turn this into another idiotic argument. Now let me out,” the demon said. When Dean didn’t move to do as ordered, Castiel stood up straighter, a curious look coming to his face.

“Dean.” More clipped, serious. “Let me out.”

The hunter still made no move, watching in silence as the demon’s reaction continued. Blue eyes gave way to a cloud of navy, then black, bottomless pits that stared through Dean in a play at intimidation. The floorboards groaned under Castiel’s feet.

“Let me out. Now.” Castiel slammed one hand forward, the limb rebounding back against an invisible wall. His face twisted into something ugly. “This is not some sort of _game_ , Dean.”

The floor groaned again before one of the boards splintered, sending shards flying in all directions. Dean shielded himself with his jacket, flinching back when Castiel was pressed to the very edges of his boundaries, snarling.

His eyes flashed back to human blue, and in the transition Dean noticed a flash of fear. It was gone seconds later, eyes steely and fierce. “I am the last person you want as an enemy, Winchester.”

Fearing Castiel’s reaction if he delayed further, Dean moved to one of the traps and broke the line. In seconds Castiel had ripped out a chunk of drywall and thrown it at the other trap, effectively breaking it.

He stepped quickly away from the area in which he had been contained, glaring at the remains of the traps. “If you do that again you will regret it,” he snapped. The rest of the aligned rows shoved forward just enough to topple from the sideboard. They all fell to the floor in a cacophony of jarring noise that made Dean wince. “Everlasting revenge from your brother or not.”

Dean remained quiet and looked away from the angry demon. “Sorry.”

“You’d better be; I dragged you out of the Pit and I won’t hesitate to throw you right back in.”

Dean faced Castiel again and they stared each other down. Castiel, it seemed, did not need to blink, not that that bothered Dean. He only looked away when his phone chimed in his pocket.

The first time Castiel had seen the device, he had threatened to smash it with a rock until Dean explained what it was. It was the first thing that made Dean suspect that the demon hadn’t been topside in quite a while.

Sam’s name flashed across the screen and Dean felt his heart pick up in alarm as he pressed the button to answer. “Sam. Hey.”

“Dean, where  _are_  you?”

The older Winchester ignored Castiel’s hostile yet questioning look as he replied, “Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t wanna bother you so I went for a drive. I’ll be back soon.”

“You don’t sound like you’re in a car,” came Sam’s groggy response, the insinuation subtle but present.

“Yeah, Sam, I stopped for a bit. Man’s gotta think. Bye.” He flipped his phone shut and slipped it back in his pocket.

Castiel’s expression was accusatory on top of everything else. “You haven’t told him yet. Or Bobby, if I’m guessing correctly. You’re that ashamed to be working with me?”

“You’re a demon.”

Castiel didn’t change his expression, a look of expectant exasperation that screamed ‘So?’ loud and clear. Dean shrugged as he tried to explain, bunching up his shoulders defensively.

“They- Do you know what bobby and Sam would say if they found out I was working with a demon?”

“On things a human could teach you just as well as I could! The only difference is that I can give you demonstrations.”

“They wouldn’t see it that way,” Dean tried. Castiel scoffed and crossed the dim room. The lights flickered when he passed, casting erratic shadows across the walls and floor. When he had positioned himself in front of one of the windows, he muttered darkly.

“Of course.”

The way he said it – practically spitting the two syllables out, shoulders tense, anger still making the lights falter – gave Dean pause. Did Castiel know something he didn’t? But the question was absurd, of course the demon knew things, but not things about Sam, or Bobby, or anyone else. It wasn’t possible.

“I gotta go,” Dean huffed, heading for the door. Castiel’s presence loomed heavy over his shoulder, but Dean refused to turn around, forced himself not to look. “Back off.”

The demon moved away, but his voice filled the room: “I won’t stay a shameful secret for much longer, Dean. Either you tell them about me or our alliance is done.”

“You need me for your plans.”

“Plans can be rewritten. Have fun outsmarting the angels alone.” There was a rush of air, and when Dean turned, the abandoned home was empty. A strange feeling settled in his gut at Castiel’s departure. They had had disagreements before, but neither of them had ever left. It left Dean feeling responsible and oddly guilty.

He flicked off the lights and went, driving off until the building was just a shadow among shadows in his rearview mirror. Twenty minutes later he pulled into the motel and parked in front of the room he and Sam had rented.

Sam was sitting on his bed, reading some biography, when Dean entered the room. He set his book down. “What the Hell, Dean? Where did you have to go at-“ Sam glanced at his watch “-two in the morning?”

Dean’s frown deepened and he sat down on his own bed, only bothering to tug off his shoes before he laid back on the covers. “Somewhere I could think, Sam, I already told you.”

“Dean,” Sam began.

“Good  _night_ , Sam.” Dean rolled away from his brother. “Just forget I even left.”

-

The first week that Dean didn’t hear so much as a peep from Castiel, he assumed the other was still angry from the fight and didn’t feel like talking just yet. Dean didn’t blame him and thought nothing of it.

The second week without contact, Dean was annoyed because seriously? That fight was hardly worth the freakin’ cold shoulder. The cold shoulder, honestly, Dean was almost embarrassed the guy was resorting to such pitiful methods.

By the time week three rolled around – two days before Halloween – Dean was starting to wonder if Castiel had been serious and this was more than just the demon acting pissy. The guy had never left Dean with absolutely no contact for two weeks since the start of their shaky alliance.

Finding out that Sam was working with Ruby – cultivating demon powers for Christ’s sake – was like a punch to the gut. He’d fought with Castiel about the same issue, about fraternizing with a demon behind his brother’s back, and alienated him for what? To find out his brother had been doing the exact same thing? Castiel’s words, that bitter ‘Of course,’ came flooding back to him.

Castiel had  _known_  and…and…and what? Hadn’t tried to ruin Dean’s relationship with his brother? Hadn’t forced Dean to foster animosity between the two men?

He’d wanted honesty, and Dean’d thrown it right back in his face.

The demon powers were another kick to Dean’s pride and trust. It felt wrong not to trust his brother implicitly anymore, broken and horrible. Sam was his everything – was the reason he kept breathing and surviving every morning rather than curl up in a ball and wish to die – and he had raised him more than John ever had, but Dean just couldn’t look at him the same. He couldn’t get the image of Sam pulling a demon from its host out of his mind.

Betrayal was the only word that came to mind.

He was forced to think of other things and push Castiel’s disappearance and Sam’s dealings with demon powers to the back of his mind when Inias popped into his life again, flashing into the motel room with a buddy – ‘Uriel, from my garrison’ – and tasked him with stopped the breaking of some sort of seal.

For weeks, Dean was unable to dedicate any serious focus to Castiel’s absence. Whenever Dean had time after a case – time he would have used to search for or try to contact the strong-willed demon – Inias would pop in; always bearing new information or a request, something that inevitably ate up all his free time, or at least kept him from doing anything related to Castiel in any way. The angel followed him around like a lost puppy whenever Dean was doing work for him.

Things changed one night when Sam and Dean were in a bar. It should have been a normal evening – enjoying a few beers, hustling some pool – before Ruby showed up and soured Dean’s mood. Even bearing news of some sort, Dean couldn’t find it in himself to like her, couldn’t get the image of her egging Sam on out of his mind.

He was not any happier when her lead started looking fruitful, even less so when he argued with Sam about that very topic less than a day later. It was with mild reluctance that he allowed Sam to drag him to the home of one Anna Milton: Crazy Girl Hunted By Demons Who Broke Out Of A Mental Institution when a search of her mental institution revealed that there may have been some reason to be interested in the young woman.

No one answered at the Milton home when Sam and Dean rang the bell and knocked, so it was only natural that they let themselves in; the door was unlocked after all. “Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Milton?” Dean called, stepping further into the house behind his brother.

“We’re from the sheriff’s department-“ Sam broke off, drawing Ruby’s knife and shifting into a fighting stance. Dean only just glimpsed the figure that had caused Sam’s reaction and bolted to stop his brother.

“Sam-“

“Do you honestly think that thumb tack scares me, boy?” Castiel’s low rumble was oddly comforting to hear, after so many weeks of nothing, and it spurred Dean on to stop Sam faster. As he reached for Sam’s arm the demon caught sight of him and flicked a finger.

Dean went flying, jarring to a stop inches short of the wall when Castiel closed his fist. It felt like he  _had_  been thrown into the wall, what with the way the breath was knocked out of him. Sam moved in the corner of his eye, and if he could have Dean would’ve shouted for him to watch out as Sam, too, was tossed through the air like a football. He also stopped inches from plaster or drywall or whatever this house was made of, Castiel barely showing the strain of holding the two of them aloft.

There was a flash in Castiel’s eyes for all of a few seconds – one that Dean had learned meant ‘Shut up and be quiet’ – then it was gone as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath, fist curling tighter, his knuckles turning white. A feeling like being drenched in cool water rolled over Dean’s skin, wrapping him up and encasing every inch of him. From Sam’s squirm, Dean could tell that he wasn’t the only one experiencing it.

Castiel’s eyes reopened and he stuffed his fist in his pocket seconds before the doors burst open once more and three new figures glided in.


	3. Chapter 3

The leader – a woman with curly black hair and shiny eyes to match – strode in, frowning when she saw Castiel. At some point that Dean hadn’t noticed, a self-satisfied smirk had threaded onto Castiel’s face.

“Dana. It’s been a while.”

The other demon quirked a perfectly manicured brow, crossing her arms. “Likewise, Castiel.” She paused a moment, lips pursed, before she asked, “What brings you here?”

“The same as you, I’d imagine. But it’s too late. No one’s been here in days. Since the girl escaped at least. She must have come and warned them.” Castiel’s hands twitched in his pockets, and Dean frowned despite his immobility. His eyes flitting to the side, Dean saw why. Sam’s hand was strained as far as it could move under Castiel’s power, fingers slowly curling inwards.

Dean looked back at Castiel, at the slightly tense set of his shoulders, and at Sam’s look of intense concentration. It took longer than it should have for him to put two and two together, and he struggled to make any sound, to distract Sam, stop him. But whatever kept him from the other demons’ notice also kept him from doing anything that might help.

Then Castiel flinched, shoulders jerking back as breath rushed in through his nose.

Dana’s eyes narrowed and she eyed the room, nostrils flared. “Everything peachy, Castiel?”

The tight smile on the male demon’s face made Dean uneasy, especially coupled with the humorless chuckle. “You know Crowley. Never satisfied with good, always wants great. I’m working a bit too slowly for his tastes.”

Dana rolled her eyes. “You’re moving too slowly for anyone’s taste, Castiel. Why is that?”

Castiel glared back at her, and his expression never faltered as he said, “The girl and her family are gone; you might as well leave.”

But the woman didn’t. Dean watched carefully as the woman stared at Castiel, then opened her mouth and inhaled. It reminded Dean of a lion, or perhaps a tiger, the way cats would scent the air not just with nose but with mouth as well. She breathed the air in and out several times, eyes flickering back to solid midnight and narrowing at Castiel.

“Someone was here, Castiel.” A picture frame rattled near Castiel and the man eyed it for several seconds until it subsided.

“Yes. I noticed. Given the situation, would you care to take a guess who?”

The other demon crossed her arms, but breathed in the air again nevertheless. Several minutes later she paused, eyes widening. “No. They found out so quickly!”

“You can understand why I want to keep my visit as brief as possible?”

“Oh, Alastair will be happy to hear this. He’s been looking for these brats.”

Castiel’s back tensed again, a small drop of sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

Dean hadn’t known demons could sweat.

“Alastair is coming?”

“Oh honey,” Dana practically purred, “He’s already _here_. Looking for the girl. We’re just backup. You really _are_ slow aren’t you? Do you talk to anyone down below these days or are you still working on probation?”

They exchanged more brief words, but Dean was no longer paying attention. The name they had mentioned – Alastair – it was familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. Something like heat prickled at the back of his mind, an insistent press against his memory until it disappeared without warning.

He was broken from his thoughts when Dana and her two henchmen exited the home, door slamming shut behind them. Castiel slowly removed his hands from his pockets. When he uncurled one fist, Dean and Sam lowered slowly to the floor and the sensation of being engulfed in cool water faded. Sam was flung backward and hit the wall with a crack, hand dropping back to his side.

“Hey-!” Dean exclaimed.

“Don’t,” Castiel said, laser-focused on Sam, “try to exorcise me. Ever. Again. Or I _will_ reconsider my decision to help you insufferable hunters.” He twisted his hand viciously – Sam grunted as he was pressed against the wall – then dropped it to his side. Castiel’s other hand swung around and uncurled as well.

Dean jumped when an older man and woman seemed to materialize in front of him. They clung to each other on the worn living room rug, eyes fearful and locked on Castiel.

“What _are_ you?” the woman hissed, clutching her husband’s arm tighter.

Castiel wasn’t paying attention to them, though. He watched Dean, and Dean watched him back. The difference from just a few moments before was astonishing.

Castiel seemed older, tired, as he leaned against the doorframe between the living room and hallway. Heavy bags lined his eyes and his shoulders drooped. He let out a long, heavy sigh. Dean had never seen the proud demon like this.

“The girl. Is there anything you can find here that would suggest where she might go?” Castiel asked.

Sam was on attack from the get-go, snarling, “We don’t work with demons-“

While Dean tried to calm down his brother with a warning, “Sam,” Castiel snapped right back. “I think Ruby would beg to differ.”

The taller brother flinched like he had been struck. Dean struggled with which man to approach before finally leaving Sam and following Castiel into the living room. The demon was skulking through the house at a calculated pace, eyes roaming the neatly kept rooms in search of some clue. Dean rounded the couch and grabbed Castiel’s shoulder, taking back his hand quickly when the other man glared.

He tried to get the demon to explain what was going on, but was thoroughly ignored. Castiel’s focus drifted from one object to the next – first examining the TV, then the window curtains, then the mantle – in his search, pausing in front of some framed photographs. He moved on quickly enough, drifting into the kitchen and shuffling through the cabinets.

Dean stood by the fridge and watched as Castiel’s frustration – at the cabinets, at the home, at everything – seemed to mount. He slammed one cabinet door shut with vicious strength that cracked the wood. “I asked for your help, Dean, not for you to watch me like I’m a bomb set to go off at any moment!”

“Dude, what has got your panties in a twist?” Dean snapped. He wasn’t surprised when Castiel’s glare pinned him; he was when Castiel appeared to shrink in the span of one second.

Castiel slumped against the counter, hands braced on the edge. “Dean,” he said. “The girl. We don’t have much time. I swear I will explain when we have finished this, but we must act quickly.”

The hunter sighed and ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes momentarily as he considered. He could hear the low murmur of Sam’s voice in the other room trying to soothe the beleaguered parents. The woman’s shrill voice interjected occasionally, while the father’s calmer, but still shaky questions were more frequent.

He was going to regret this. Somehow he was going to regret it, he could just tell.

“On the mantle, that photo of the three of them in front of a church? She drew that stained glass window at least half a dozen times in a sketchbook when she was locked up. My best bet would be that she’s heading there.”

Castiel nodded before he approached the photo, staring at it for several seconds. “We should go immediately. I don’t know how much the others know,” he announced. “If they find her first, it won’t be good.”

That was, of course, easier said than done. Castiel made it as far as the couch before his whole body seized up, arms and back going rigid even as his legs refused to cooperate and dumped him unceremoniously on the furniture. Dean jumped forward, hand grabbing at Castiel’s jacket, a beat up tan trench coat.

The demon shook for several seconds, breath harsh and fast. “Let go.”

Dean didn’t. “Dude, you would have face planted into the _floor_ if the couch hadn’t been there-“

“There isn’t time, Dean, I’ve told you this already.”

“Why, because you’re working so slow for Crowley and ‘everyone’?” Dean growled, Castiel finally shaking off his hand. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve been avoiding me for weeks, right? Not like I’ve been out of the loop with nothing to do. For someone who claims they want to help, you’re really not _helping_ much!”

“I didn’t-”Castiel shouted, stopping himself before continuing in a harsh but level tone, “I didn’t come back to fight!” Castiel marched away, out the front door, and it took all of Dean’s self-control not to sprint out there and force him to explain. Instead, he marched into the entryway, where Sam had finally calmed down Mr. and Mrs. Milton. Fierce whispers were being exchanged as Dean stomped in, their eyes flickering to him for a few seconds before returning to each other. Sam glided over, sighing heavily.

They didn’t speak, watching the couple in silence for a few moments until Sam turned towards Dean. “Demon outside?” he asked quietly. Dean nodded in response.

“We have a lead on where the girl might be. The church in the photo on the mantle. We need to go check it out before those goons do.”

Dean moved to leave, he was stopped by Sam’s hand curling on his shoulder. “Dean- Dean, that demon. That’s the one that said he pulled you out, right?” Again, Dean nodded. “I don’t trust him. But if you do, then I’ll trust you. Okay?”

The smile he gave his brother was real, the swipe at the back of his head affectionate. “Yeah, Sammy. Okay. I gotta talk to him still, though. Could you see about borrowing the Miltons’ car?”

“Yes, but Dean-“ Sam’s hand grabbed his shoulder again. “This isn’t a one way street. I need you to trust me with Ruby, too.”

Dean wanted to say no. He wanted to say no without a second’s hesitation and close the topic; Ruby had corrupted his brother, had tempted him with power and lies and fed him demon blood for who knows how long. Dean wanted nothing more than to never even think the demon’s name again.

But Sam was trusting him with Castiel, and Dean couldn’t repay that kind of trust with a refusal. Sam gave him so much leeway as it was, even if the thought made Dean’s gut churn.

The words were sour as they slipped from his tongue, a quick, “Yeah, fine. Okay. Now we gotta go.” He ignored Sam’s relieved smile as he left the house, the door shutting with a solid click.

Castiel was already at the Impala. The demon’s arms were crossed over his chest and his face, to Dean, seemed carefully blank. He didn’t acknowledge Dean when the door was unlocked and he was allowed to slide into the passenger seat, nor did he react when the Impala roared to life.

“Can you at least tell me who you’re wearing?” Dean eventually muttered into the silence of the Impala. Castiel obviously wasn’t going to answer any of the other questions (not that he’d ever been big on explaining things to Dean, but it was worth a shot).

“No one, Dean.”

“Even I know that’s a load of bull-“

“He’s gone, Dean. He has been since long before I took up residence. It’s not hard to guess a Winchester would be uncomfortable enough working with me in the first place. I took precautions to assure this process would be as…smooth as possible. I was  _wrong_  obviously, but…” Castiel huffed, forehead pressed against the window.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Dean inquired a few blocks later, making a left.

Castiel shook his head minutely, hand coming up to scrub at his hair. His host’s hair?

“He sold radio ad time. Lived some place called Pontiac; in Illinois. Had a wife and daughter, and both thought he was going insane because he said an angel was talking to him,” Castiel explained. Dean frowned; he’d never before heard of a demon that  _talked_  to its host before possession. “The angel he was speaking to… To have him prove his faith, he asked this man to make a journey. A pilgrimage, of sorts. So without telling anyone he left in the middle of the night to go and prove his faith in God, so that the angel would know he had found a worthy vessel.

“A few miles east of the California border, he was in an accident. By the time emergency response got there, the bus he’d been on was in flames. They managed to get everyone out alive but most of the stored luggage was burnt to a crisp, any form of identification on him was gone. John Doe was in a coma for six weeks before I stumbled across him, eight before he was declared brain dead. I’d found him by then, like I said, sniffed around the accident a little and there was no foul play, heavenly or otherwise. It wasn’t bad enough to make the national circuit, Pontiac never heard of it. One more crazy man going missing isn’t exactly national crisis either. The angel couldn’t make use of him because he wasn’t conscious to say yes. So I stepped in.”

Castiel looked over to him then rolled his eyes. “Look, sorry that this is how we walk the earth, but I really don’t have any other options available to me at the moment. I did the best I could on short notice, and honestly? I think it’s better than having him die in some hospital where no one knows his name. Long after I’ve left his body I’ll remember him. That’s all anyone really wants anyway; to be remembered.”

“And what is his name then?” Dean asked, but it felt too quiet. Delicate almost, and if Dean Winchester was anything, it was not delicate.

“So you can go and find his family and tell them daddy dearest is now a demon?” Castiel snorted, looking away again.

Dean figured that was it, that Castiel would say no more and the topic, like others, would not be up for discussion ever again.

They pulled up to the church, Sam close behind in the Miltons' sedan, and Dean thought it might have been his imagination when he heard Castiel murmur, “Jimmy Novak.”

He had to force the thought from his mind when Sam approached, opened the trunk of the Impala and proceeded to start gathering supplies. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and let a heavy sigh escape his lungs. He just hoped this pickup would be uneventful so he could get the answers he needed. He really, really hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam lagged behind when they began to approach the building and Dean held back from rolling his eyes. Hadn’t Sam said he would trust him? What was the point of it if he was going to-

Dean stopped that train of thought. Sam could have his reservations – Dean was sure as hell going to keep a firm hold on his suspicions of Ruby. It didn’t change the fact that Castiel was back in his presence again.

Castiel’s step faltered, his body seizing up, and it was Sam who grabbed and steadied him before he could fall. “Whoa, man! You okay?”

Dean belatedly grabbed Castiel’s other arm to help support him, but soon both brothers’ hands had been shaken off. “I’m fine. I’m just tired. The sooner we find the girl the better; go.”

The look Sam shot Dean was wary, but he walked to the doors of the church at the older hunter’s nod. Dean leaned close to Castiel when his brother was a few feet away. “Castiel, you need to sit this one out? We can handle picking up some chick, but if you clock out on us-“

“I’ll be fine.”

Dean didn’t pretend to be satisfied with Castiel’s answer, but he decided to let it slide. Castiel was right, they had to find Anna soon, before the other demons could get to her. They’d already been too close for comfort and Dean would be much happier if he knew the girl was out of their grasp.

The two caught up to Sam quickly, and from there the trio entered the building easily enough. The front door was unlocked, and Sam and Dean were cautious, peeking in and assuring that no one was inside before slipping through the doorway. Castiel followed behind them, eyes roaming the walls.

He looked oddly in place in the church; his stillness would have been almost unsettling if Dean hadn’t gotten used to it through Inias’ random appearances. The angel was even more motionless than Castiel with less practice at appearing human than the demon. Castiel, from what Dean had observed, knew how to shift his weight from foot to foot every so often, to blink and look around and include so many little human nuances that the angelic warriors didn’t seem to understand.

“No one’s here,” Sam murmured after they searched through the main floor. His voice, even as quiet as it was, carried through the empty church, Dean motioned that he had heard, and Castiel’s arm came up to point. Following Castiel’s direction, Dean saw the set of stairs nestled in the corner and nodded to himself.

He and Sam crossed the room to the stairs, but Castiel remained where he was. “You coming?” Dean hissed.

Castiel’s head shook. “Get Milton, take her somewhere safe. There is something I have to take care of.” Castiel started to walk away, but stopped and added, “Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you when it’s safe.”

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Castiel was gone before he could even decide what to say. He scowled after the demon and Sam’s hand on his shoulder focused him again.

The two of them moved fluidly together up to the second floor. The stairs, spurred on both by age and their combined weight, creaked loudly as they climbed.

An empty room with a large circular window greeted their eyes as they finished their ascent. Sunlight streamed through the colorful glass, highlighting dust motes that floated around and painting everything in faint shades of color. It was quiet.

“Anna,” Sam called. “You in here?”

There was no reply, and Sam and Dean started to slowly inspect the room. Sam paused suddenly, the stop catching Dean’s attention. Sam motioned towards the cluttered space in the room to the left of the large window. It was piled high with boxes and other things, blocking their view of the corner. Dean listened closely, nodding to his brother when he, too, heard the shuffling sounds coming from there.

“Anna, my name’s Sam Winchester, and I’m here with my brother Dean. We were just at your parents’ house; they’re worried about you, and they asked us to help. It’d really help if you’d talk to us.” Sam gripped the demon-killing knife as he said it, but his hand was relaxed and resting at his side. Dean was the one who crept slowly closer, ready to spring into action should the need arise.

It didn’t. Before either brother got the chance to peek behind the haphazard stack, a girl’s face poked out. Her hair was bright red and a stark contrast against her pale skin. Large eyes scanned the hunters quickly and efficiently under a furrowed brow.

“Did you say Winchester? _The_ Dean Winchester?” she asked. The intense focus that she immediately placed on them was unsettling, and Dean took a subtle step closer to his brother before he replied.

“That would depend where you’ve heard of me before. As far as I know, I’m the real deal.”

Anna Milton stood up a little straighter behind her makeshift barricade, lips pressing together. “The Dean Winchester who was in hell.”

The girl didn’t falter as she waited for a response; her gaze was steady, her hand still where it hung at her side. A humorless chuckle escaped from Dean’s lips.

“One and only.”

Anna bit her lip and the brothers watched as her eyes surveyed them both one more time.

“We don’t have all day, sweetheart, we’re on a bit of a schedule. We only have so long before more demons show up,” Dean said after a few minutes of waiting.

Anna gasped, eyes flying wide open at the comment. “They’re still following me.” She sounded more resigned than anything else. Dean could recognize the tiredness in her eyes, the slight slump in her shoulders. He wished he could do more to help than just get her away, but he didn’t have many more options.

“We have friends who can help you get away from the demons. But it would really help if we knew why they want you,” Sam interjected, easing closer to Anna with his hands held at shoulder level.

“You don’t need to treat me like I’m about to fall apart,” she snapped, hazel eyes narrowing in irritation. “I’m not a damsel in distress. I probably know more about what the hell is going on than either of you.”

Dean was about to respond, but the sudden screech of rage from outside brought them all to a stop. The brothers rushed to the large, circular window, Anna a quiet presence at their backs. Dean couldn’t see much, but what he did see was enough to set his hair on end.

Castiel’s trench coat flared by the road as the demon whirled, face contorted by a vicious snarl as he wrestled with an older man. They grappled and fought, and Dean felt his stomach sink a little when the older man – a demon no doubt – tossed Castiel aside like he was no more than a plastic bag. The smaller demon’s cry, although unheard, was easy to see in the twist of his features. Dean grabbed Anna’s arm as Castiel sprang back to his feet and launched himself at the other demon and began to drag her away.

“We have to go _now_ ,” he said. Anna didn’t protest, though she did shake off his firm hold and opted instead to walk between the brothers. They were out the door and scanning for danger in minutes.

The yard was eerily silent. Neither demon was in sight.

Dean ushered Sam and Anna out of the church and towards the Impala, hand resting on his gun even as he made his way to the car. Then there was movement and Dean was spinning to attack and he was shoved forcefully towards the car by a blur of long dark hair and intense eyes. “Drive! Now!” Ruby shouted as she climbed into the backseat next to Anna. The redhead screeched, something about Ruby’s face, but Dean was frozen behind the wheel as Castiel flew into sight again.

The demon looked even worse for wear; his coat was torn and covered in dirt stains. Castiel managed to land in a roll that placed him on his feet, but he swayed as the other demon rushed him, pinned him to a tree and leaned close. Castiel grabbed at the hand on his neck.

“Dean! Drive, go! Whoever that is won’t be able to keep Alastair occupied  much longer!”

Ruby snapped Dean from his stupor and the hunter stomped on the gas. The Impala roared and rocketed away, and Dean saw the two men turn in the rearview mirror.

Castiel’s mouth opened in some sort of shout, but Dean couldn’t spare the focus to figure out what. The other demon simply opened his jaws in a howl that shook the very air.

Dean stopped only long enough for Sam to run into the Milton house and grab Anna’s parents and then they were off again; he was grateful they had packed before leaving the motel -  one less delay to deal with. Dean felt better once they were on the highway and putting distance between themselves and the strange demon. He didn’t allow himself to feel guilty about leaving Castiel; Castiel was more than capable of keeping himself safe.

The first thirty minutes of the ride were tense and silent but for Anna fidgeting between her parents. Whenever Dean glanced at them in the rearview, the young woman was staring over at Ruby with distrustful eyes, looking almost horrified. Dean wasn’t Ruby’s biggest fan, he’d admit, but the demon didn’t deserve a disgusted stare. The redhead settled down a bit after that, though Dean could tell she was still tense in the cramped back seat.

His thoughts, without anyone talking for distraction, wandered to Castiel as he drove. He hadn’t been at the top of his game, and Dean hadn’t so much as blinked when he left him behind. Even knowing that the demon would need more than one beating to break him, he still worried. Castiel had given them precious minutes to escape without Alastair – Dean made a note to find out whom, exactly, that was later – focusing on them.

Something in Dean’s gut left him uneasy about the situation, but things were how they were. If they turned back now, it would only serve to get them caught. So Dean filed his concern away and focused on the tarmac that flew by under his tires as the day wore on.

Eventually, keeping in her thoughts must have proven too much, because when they were several hours out Anna blurted, “She’s a demon!”

Sam was the one who handled the situation, thankfully. He was better at this than Dean, dealing with people and calming them down. “It’s okay,” he said, “Ruby’s a friend of ours. She helps us.”

“But her face-!”

Ruby grumbled something that Dean thought was “It’s just a face, relax.” Sam continued, “She’s not like the ones that were chasing you before,” and somehow that actually worked to help calm the girl down.

“Like that one at our house?” Mrs. Milton asked. Dean’s fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel. Her tone was suspicious as she said, “Castle? He acted like he knew those other ones-“

“ _Castiel_ saved all our asses by hiding us,” Dean said. “And he saved us again back at the church when we were getting your daughter by holding off- By holding off that other guy. Alastair.”

The Impala’s rumble filled the otherwise awkward silence. Dean glanced in the mirror again and saw Ruby’s eyes locked on his own, dark and still.

“What?”

“That was Castiel holding Alastair off?” Something about her tone struck him the wrong way. Dean pulled onto the shoulder as Ruby leaned forward. Her hand curled uncomfortably close to his shoulder on the seat, and he leaned away even while he twisted to look at her.

“Yeah. Why, didn’t you recognize him?”

Ruby shook her head. Dean would have taken great pleasure in the flabbergasted expression on her face at any other time, but right now it was anything but comforting. Sam’s hand fell on his shoulder to restrain him before he even got a sentence formed in his mind.

“Why does it matter? Castiel can handle it,” Dean said.

“He can handle it? Dean, did you even listen to what I said? That was _Alastair_ he was fighting!”

Like that was supposed to make any difference? Dean didn’t care who it was, even if the name was one he felt he should recognize.

Dean found himself uncomfortable under Ruby’s expectant, unrelenting stare and he escaped from the Impala to pace beside it in long strides. Ruby followed him, slamming the door behind her and crowding his personal space. “Dean, this isn’t some game, it’s…” She stopped with her mouth hanging half-open to continue. Then her eyes blazed. “You don’t remember. How can you not remember _Alastair_? Dean, he’s… There is no way you could forget him!

“We have to go back.”

Dean scrambled around even as Ruby returned to the Impala. “What?”

The demon rolled her eyes, hands on hips and expression dour. “I’ll be the first to admit that Castiel and I aren’t friends, and we don’t like each other much, but if he’s helping you then he’s helping Sam, and I’m _not_ leaving him alone fighting Alastair.”

Dean rushed forward himself to hold the Impala’s door closed when Ruby tried to slip back in. “Castiel’s a big boy; he can make his own choices.”

“Castiel would be hard pressed to match Alastair on the best of days. From what I hear he’s not at a hundred percent right now. How do you _think_ he’s gonna fare?”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean opened his mouth to retort and hesitated. Yeah, Castiel had never had any problems knocking Dean around a little in their training sessions, but Dean – loath as he was to admit it – was only human, and he hardly matched up with a strong demon.

Alastair sounded like he was anything but weak.

“We won’t do him any good if we go in unprepared. And we need to find out what the hell Anna is before we can make any decisions,” Dean said. Ruby glared at him, stern and motionless as she thought over his words.

“Alright.”

Dean closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks as he moved away and Ruby climbed back into the Impala. He was about to get back in himself when Sam’s head rose into view. Dean rolled his eyes at his younger brother’s concerned look. “We’re finding somewhere to stay tonight, then we’re gonna find out what she is,” Dean said.

Sam nodded slowly. “Everything cool?”

“No. But when is it ever?”

Dean didn’t wait for a response, slid back into the Impala and turned her on before Sam had even pulled his door open. The scenery, flat and open and dull, flew by in a blur. Dean forced himself to focus on the road and ignore the passengers in the backseat and the thoughts of Castiel and Alastair and Hell that jumbled in his head.

When the sky was dark and Dean felt like his limbs were made of lead, he pulled over for the night. The Miltons were already passed out in the back, leaning on each other in a huge heap of limbs. Beside them, Ruby sat with her face turned to the window, eyes sparkling and bright in the gleam of moonlight, though she craned her neck to look at him through the rearview mirror. Dean’s eyes flicked to Sam – sleeping as well – before he got out of the driver’s seat.

Ruby followed him silently as he walked over to the old cabin he had driven them to. It looked more ominous than he remembered it being. He chalked it up to the optimistic goggles of youth and naivety as he climbed the stairs. They were solid and the porch didn’t groan or creak as he tramped around.

Ruby’s footsteps were light and near soundless, but he could feel the demon like she was a cold breeze. He turned when he found the key hidden under a loose board, found himself face-to-face with her. Dean sighed.

“There anything demons can do that we don’t know about yet? Like…control people without being…in them?”

The corner of Ruby’s mouth twitched and she shook her head. “No one who’s topside right now. Besides. You’d know if you were being controlled; possession isn’t something people forget.”

“Hell isn’t either but you’re saying I have.” Dean made pointed eye contact for a moment before he went to unlock the cabin. The door was swollen and stuck in the jamb, and he spent a few minutes working it free.

Ruby breezed past him to get a look inside; Dean scowled but allowed her to explore on her own for a few minutes as he replaced the key. She was peering out one of the windows when he returned, a smudge of dust on the edge of her sleeve. “Maybe you didn’t forget,” she said while he walked towards her. “There are a lot of ways to make memories stay away. Lots of spells to lock them away until you want them remembered. A strong enough witch could hide any noticeable traces without breaking a sweat. An experienced one could hide more.” Ruby met Dean’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. “Hang out with any witches lately?”

“Besides you?”

They were quiet for a while, each going off in separate directions to inspect the rest of the cabin. There were thankfully no problems with it, other than a hearty coating of dust and a musty smell to some of the rooms. After swiping a hand over the seat to clear away some of the dust, Dean sank down onto the couch in the first room. It felt good to finally rest his limbs, to lean his head back and let his muscles go lax.

His skin crawled when Ruby pressed a hand to his shoulder and he cracked his eyes open to look at her but did not shift away. She sat down next to him, one leg curled under herself, expression serious. “Until we can figure out what happened, you need to know what went on and who Alastair is.”

“I should wake up Sam and the Miltons. They’ll be more comfortable in the beds.”

“Or you could act like an adult, ignore our disagreements and actually listen to me for five minutes. There are things you need to know if we’re gonna face Alastair, and you need to know them now.”

Dean ended up shutting up for more than five minutes, though at times he wished he had just told Ruby to forget it and fetched Sam from the car. Alastair, for lack of a better term, was one nasty son of a bitch. The torture master of hell, among the oldest of the old demons. _Powerful_ , Dean’s mind translated quietly. _Dangerous_.

If what Ruby suspected was true, Alastair had focused more than a few minutes of his time on Dean alone, weeks and years. Dean couldn’t be certain. Hell was the scorch of flames and the chill bite of ice and constant, unending pain. It was all that was bad and dark and terrifying, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember everything. He didn’t know what awaited him there, in that deep recess of his mind; if it was something that would help them or hurt him more.

Ruby let him free after an hour, and Dean fled the cabin to escape her. It was quick work to shake Sam awake, and his brother helped him to get the Miltons upright long enough to be led into the bedrooms. If he noticed the way the Impala had cooled much more than if Dean had only done a quick, routine check of the cabin, Sam didn’t mention it. Dean was grateful – he wasn’t sure how he felt about explaining his little chat with Ruby.

Sam claimed the couch and Dean smacked the dust off of an old armchair in a back room before he settled down for the night. He couldn’t get comfortable. The moonlight streaming through the windows was too bright, but shutting the drapes made the room too dark for his tastes. The chair, although better than nothing, was lumpy and a bit flattened from use and age. Even more, he could hear the Miltons padding around on the small second story, their footsteps quiet but too loud for Dean’s current unease.

Eventually, he got up and started to look through the sparse bookshelves that lined one wall. He ignored most of them – ‘How To’ guides and novels from their last stay here, back when Sam was still figuring out middle school and Dean was trying to rush his way into adulthood. He settled eventually for an old paperback, the pages yellowed and soft under his fingertips.

He woke the next morning with the book on the floor and Sam’s hand on his shoulder. “Anna’s been telling us some interesting stuff; it’s probably why the demons were after her in the first place.” Sam moved away as Dean pushed himself from the chair, grunting as several of his joints cracked with the movement. His younger brother paused by the door and Dean shot him a questioning look.

“I’m just,” Sam began. “Thanks. For talking to Ruby and not… Thanks for giving her a chance. I know it’s hard for you.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean bent down to grab the book from the floor and shove it back on a shelf. Sam was gone by the time he finished, and he took a moment to compose himself.

Dean was as calm and content as he was going to get for a while when he rejoined the rest of their little party in the living room. The Miltons were seated on the couch, daughter between mother and father, and Ruby and Sam were perched on some chairs they had dragged over from the kitchen table.

Dean grabbed a chair of his own and sat down.

“Anna, could you tell Dean what you told us?” Sam asked. The girl nodded, made eye contact with Dean.

“I know about the angels,” she said plainly. “I hear them, sometimes. That’s how I knew about you.” She glanced down to her twined hands, fingers wringing around each other. “First thing I heard, loud and clear? ‘Dean Winchester has been stolen.’ They were in a frenzy trying to figure out where you were. Apparently an angel’s vessel was stolen at the same time, they were…upset? I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“An angel’s vessel was stolen?” Dean frowned, thinking back to the conversation he’d had with Castiel the day before.

Anna nodded, looking up again and going on to explain. “The vessel was almost ready, but then he got in some big accident and he couldn’t give his consent. Apparently other angels investigated and there were signs of a demon all over and evidence of demons around your disappearance too. They thought it was connected. They got jumbled after that, I couldn’t understand a lot.”

“Evidence of demons in hell, big surprise.” Dean sighed. “Okay. So you have angel radio in your head, and the demons want you to, what, spy on the angels’ plans?” Anna shrugged, Mrs. Milton glared at Dean as she grabbed her daughter’s hand, and Mr. Milton looked thoughtful.

“It doesn’t make sense. Even if she told them what the angels are planning, we can’t exactly stand up to them very well. They can smite us with a touch of a hand. Even old demons can be taken down if enough angels work against them,” Ruby said. She shook her head.

“There’s another reason they want our daughter.”

All the eyes in the room turned to Mr. Milton, to listen to the first words he had said since the day before. His hands were laced together, fingers supporting chin and eyes on the floor. They shift to look at Dean and Sam a second later, strong and full of something Dean remembers seeing in his own father’s eyes sometimes. A flash of determination and devotion and fierce, fierce loyalty. He wonders if it’s a trait all fathers share, or maybe just those with children who have seen the evil that lurks in the dark corners of the world.

“I’ve known Anna was special since the day she was born,” Mr. Milton continued. “And I’ve always suspected… When she was young, she went through a phase where she insisted that I wasn’t her real father. That her real father was mad at her because of something she did. That she betrayed him, abandoned him.” Mr. Milton’s eyes flicked quickly to his daughter before they focused on Ruby. “Your kind want my daughter because of that, don’t they? Because she’s more than just a girl who can hear more than most.”

Ruby nodded. “It’s more than likely.”

Dean ran a hand down his face before he stood and began to pace along one wall. This was all  turning out to be more complicated than he had anticipated. Angels and mysterious girls and demons were all well and good, but it didn’t help when they couldn’t piece together enough to figure out what was going on. That Castiel had probably been in the custody of some of hell’s finest for at least a day wasn’t helping matters either.

The Miltons were still talking, reasoning out possibilities and options with Sam and Ruby. Dean was about to rejoin them, some of his frustrations paced away, when his phone rang. He went outside to answer the unfamiliar number, tugging his jacket closed when a chilly breeze swirled around him.

“This is Dean.”

“ _Where are you?_ ” Dean blinked, tugged the phone away from his ear to glance at it for a heartbeat before bringing it back to his head.

“Inias?”

“ _Yes. You and your brother, where do you have the girl? The demons do not have her and she is nowhere else to be found._ ”

The hunter glanced around, expecting the angel to pop out of the trees at any moment. “You’re the one who’s always popping in on us. Why don’t you tell me?”

The angel huffed on the other side of the line and sounded almost annoyed when he replied, “ _I can’t because of your wards. We need the girl, Dean._ ”

“So I’ve heard. A lot of people are interested in her. Why?”

“ _It’s not for you to know. Where is she?_ ”

“I’ll get back to you on that one,” Dean said, ending the call. He saved Inias’ number to his contact list and stared out at the trees for a moment before entering the cabin.

“So the angels want Anna too,” Dean called out before he was even fully indoors. He stopped when he saw the grin that spread across Sam’s face at the news.

He frowned, apprehension rising in his gut before Sam spoke: “I think I know how we can make this work.”


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel was no stranger to pain. He had been well acquainted with its sting in life, and in his death it had been no different. It was all he had known for a long time; long enough that he forgot anything else. He forgot the way the sun could shine so brightly, a welcome yellow-white glow in the sky. He forgot the cool splash of water during a hot summer, the feel of springy green grass under his feet and between his toes. He forgot the dingy, dirty alleyway that he sometimes called home and he forgot the smiles and faces of those he had chosen as family. Castiel forgot himself and became nothing more than one of the thousands of nameless souls screeching and wailing under the torture of the Rack. Then, twisted and scarred, it finally broke him into something new.

Castiel had been reborn the first day his father looked him in the eye and whispered words into his ear. He gave Castiel a name, a purpose, and Castiel did not hurt any more. He had no longer been lost, instead thriving under Crowley’s tutelage with a new power he never imagined, with a future that was promised to him. He hadn’t known pain like that since.

Alastair’s taunting and terror were quickly drawing close. Every day was a struggle; Castiel wanted to give in and rattle off the ways that were sure to give them the Winchesters’ location and the girl hiding with them.

But Dean was counting on him, and demon though he was, Castiel was not going to betray the trust Dean had placed in him.

So Castiel hunkered down inside his vessel, deeper than he had ever burrowed before into the subconscious of James Novak, resident of Pontiac, Illinois, and prepared to wait. The pulse of Novak’s mind was stronger here, a small, warm glow that was wrapped in layer after layer of Castiel’s own being, guarded against anything that might try to harm it.

Deep in the recesses of his host’s mind, Castiel bumped into something that was decidedly _not_ James Novak.

 

 

Sam rolled his eyes like Dean was the one making no sense, and the older man couldn’t help but bristle a little. He’d been through too much in the past few days for him to be in anything resembling a patient mood, and he was about to open his mouth to retort when Sam spoke again.

“I mean, think of it this way. We know the demons want Anna, right?” At Dean’s nod Sam smiled a bit. “Right. And from what Inias just told you, it’s safe to assume that the angels want her too.”

“Yeah, and?” Dean prompted. “What’s this masterful plan you’ve concocted after all of three minutes?”

“We give her to them.”

The cabin filled with noise immediately. Mrs. Milton leaped to her feet and placed herself firmly between Anna and the Winchesters, snapping out threats like only a mother could. Mr. Milton didn’t stand, but he also launched into an argument about exactly why the brothers should give up that line of thinking if they knew what was good for them.

Anna, for all that she was being offered up as bait, didn’t say anything. At least, not anything to Sam or Dean. The older brother caught sight of her trying to calm her parents out of the corner of his eye. For his part, he just focused more on Sam and asked, “Care to explain why that isn’t the worst plan I’ve ever heard?”

“If there’s a whole bunch of angels in the room, who do you think the demons will pay more attention to? Anna or the angels who can smite them with a touch?” Sam waited a few more seconds for his point to be made, then changed tactics to try and calm the Miltons down.

When they were all sitting and mostly quiet again, Sam began to explain his idea. Dean wasn’t it’s biggest fan – it relied too much on chance and the guess that neither the angels nor demons would just try to snatch Anna and run – but he had to admit it was good. The Miltons were harder to convince, and served to remind Dean just why he disliked getting civilians involved in hunts. The parents questioned them, challenged them, insisted that they knew what was best.

“Maybe if we were talking barbecues and annoying neighbors, yeah, we’d say you know more,” Dean snapped. “But there are two people in this room who have firsthand experience with these douchebags, and you’re sure not them.”

It was almost worth the elbow to the ribs he got from Sam to see their eyes widen and nostrils flare in response. Almost. Sam could pack a punch when he felt like it, even if it was just an elbow jab.

 

 

Castiel dragged himself to consciousness when the excitement of one of his guards jumped enough to reach him through his defenses. Castiel was wary at first – there was no telling what, exactly, was the cause of the other demon’s interest – and he opened his eyes just barely enough to look out at the room. It proved unnecessary. All the attention, for once, was not on him. Rather, all eyes were pointed in the direction of a woman with long, dark hair.

A demon far too familiar to him swirled in the confines of the vessel, and it was only his exhaustion that stopped him from snarling.

Ruby.

Keeping his eyes open was tiring, so Castiel let them drop shut and merely listened to what was going on. From the sound of it, they were waiting for higher ups before getting to the real point of Ruby’s visit. Their small talk made Castiel feel sour inside, the whole ordeal rolling uncomfortably through him.

He thankfully didn’t have long to wait. He could feel when Alastair, flanked by several of his lackeys, strolled in and again Castiel’s stomach rolled.

“Ruby, darling. It’s so good to see you again,” Alastair said. Castiel peeked out briefly to see Alastair’s arms spread in a mocking imitation of welcome, a scowl prominent on his face.

“Hello, Alastair. I have news you want to hear.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The silence that followed piqued Castiel’s interest so much that he opened his eyes fully again.

Ruby said nothing, crossing her arms over her chest. She eyes Alastair with a calmness that surprised Castiel. Everyone was nervous around hell’s greatest torturer. Even Castiel’s father, and Alastair’s own favored helpers. Ruby had to be quaking in her boots, and she didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.

Eventually, Ruby tilted her head to the side and said, “I have a way to get the Milton girl.”

Castiel couldn’t help the low sound of protest that escaped his throat, just loud enough to gain the attention of the other demons. Alastair’s eyes flashed wickedly when he caught sight of Castiel’s own.

“Castiel. How good of you to finally join us again! You’ve been so naughty, hiding away like that.”

Ruby’s expression was indecipherable when she looked his way. As she flicked her eyes over his host, Castiel wished he had the energy to be embarrassed by his state of undress, by the two leather straps across his torso and hips that were all that kept him decent. Ruby’s face smoothed again when Alastair turned back to her, indifference in every blink.

“I’m listening.”

The lone demon smirked. “I have an in with the Winchesters. The younger one, Sam? He thinks I’ve been giving him lessons. Demon Fighting 101. Dean still doesn’t like me much but he doesn’t try to exorcise me so I count it as a win. Anyway, I let slip that I might be able to help them fetch something.”

“I don’t play sniffer dog for humans. That’s Crowley’s game, have a chat with him.”

Ruby nodded her head towards Castiel. “They want him back. Apparently he and Dean know each other and the Winchesters are idiotically loyal. They’re not letting the girl out of their sight. How much do you wanna bet that they’ll bring her with them if they think they know where you dumped Castiel once you’ve finished with him?”

Castiel wished that his mouth wasn’t held shut; wished he could shout out that it would never work, that Sam and Dean would never fall for it and even more to the point, Castiel would warn them. But how? How could he warn the hunters when he was bound, his powers suppressed by Alastair’s and his energy drained?

In the end, he settled for struggling against his bonds and making as much noise as he was capable of. A few demons eyed his frustrated thrashing, but they quickly lost interest.

The ancient demon looked at him again and Castiel stilled, chest heaving from his efforts. A slow, devious smile curled through Alastair’s lips. “You’ve got a good mind for strategy, Ruby, I’ll give you that. Just where did you have in mind?”

Ruby’s answering smirk sent Castiel fighting his bonds again with a ferocity that surprised even himself. She locked eyes with him when she gave her reply. “There’s a great little warehouse just outside Denver.”

 

 

The rumble of the Impala seemed too loud in the quiet that surrounded the sleepy motel. Their car was one of only three in the lot, a fourth space filled by two bicycles that had been chained to a fence. If he had to guess, Sam would say they belonged to teenagers hired to man the front desk.

Dean had gone ahead to book their rooms while Sam unpacked their bags and prepared the weapons they’d need from the trunk. Ruby leaned nonchalantly against the car’s gleaming hood while she examined her nails, and Sam wondered what she might be thinking about. Anna had exited the car as well, but she remained a little way off, fiddling anxiously with one of the hex bags Ruby had distributed to them. Mr. and Mrs. Milton had been dropped back at their home along the way.

“Okay!” Dean’s call cut through the parking lot. "Ruby, Anna, you’re room fifteen. Sam and I are right next to you in sixteen. Let’s go drop our stuff and get a move on. I wanna be at that warehouse soon.”

They made quick work of the bags and were back on the road in no time. Sam was behind the wheel, the world flashing by in a blur of greens and dull browns. In his periphery he could see Dean’s fingers tapping agitatedly against the dashboard; his eyes were fixed in a hard green gaze, locked on the horizon. He didn’t speak, not even a snapped criticism of Sam’s driving or a joke about whatever they were drawing themselves up against.

Sam was glad when they finally had to pull over for gas and Dean took to the wheel. He looked calmer with the car under his control, not able to put quite so much focus on the problems they were drawing up to. Sam forced himself to stop worrying about Dean and glanced over his shoulder.

Ruby met his eyes almost instantly and her face slipped into an expression of reassurance. Anna stared out the window on the other side of the car and her face was unreadable. Sam shot Ruby a quick smile and turned around to watch the road. It felt wrong the break the silence Dean had imposed on the car, and Sam settled in for the drive.

It was nearing sunset when Ruby told Dean to take the next exit and the sky was a swirl of reds and oranges as they slowed to a stop outside the abandoned warehouse.

They didn’t waste much time planning their approach, having discussed it at length before they parted ways with Anna’s parents, so Sam didn’t have long to get himself worked up over the state they might find Dean’s friend in.

To be honest, it surprised Sam a little.

He had expected a dejected demon, huddled in a corner or hiding out somewhere to lick his wounds and bide his time until he was strong again.

Castiel was a firebrand tied down with chains. He was tugging at the bonds that held him even before he caught sight of the Winchesters, his movements weary. But then they must have made a sound because Castiel’s eyes locked on them and his whole body stiffened.

Muffled shouting made its way from the gag around his mouth as Castiel shook his head fiercely. He threw his weight around enough that the chair wobbled, legs and chains clanking loudly, and it seemed that every ounce of him shouted that _they_ were the ones he was angry at.

Dean reached Castiel’s side first and tugged down the gag, and the first thing Sam heard of the demon’s hoarse voice was “Run, you idiots, it’s a damn _trap_! She led you _right_ fucking _to_ them! Get _out_!”


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had the audacity to laugh at him and Castiel’s blood nearly boiled. “Ruby’s been helping us stay under the radar and find you,” Dean said, already crouching to work at the chains’ lock.

“She’s manipulating you! She can’t be trusted-“

“And I know that you and her don’t exactly see eye to eye. Sorry if I don’t think a demon would be beyond telling half-truths to get his way. She’s been helping us. We’d know if something was up. We trust Ruby.”

It was like a punch to the gut. Castiel clenched his jaw and asked, “And you don’t trust me?”

Castiel was briefly stunned to silence as Dean looked away, attention back on picking the lock. Over Dean’s shoulder, the other demon smirked at him.

Castiel very nearly grabbed a rusty hammer from across the room and hurled it at Ruby’s head, but Alastair’s power was still a leaden blanket over his own. He let out a wordless sound of anger that made Dean pause and shoot him a quizzical look. “You have to leave! Please, Dean. Just take the girl and _leave_ and just get out. Now. Before they come back. _Please_.” He hated the way the word sounded on his tongue. Empty and small and weak. Pathetic. Castiel looked Dean in the eye and the resolve that he saw there nearly made him want to slit the man’s throat himself. Could he _listen_ for once in his damned life?

The door at the other end of the room creaked, Castiel’s chains still tight around his legs and torso, and he knew it was over. Castiel himself hadn’t been able to hold Alastair off long before and that was when he wasn’t trying to recover from torture, even if he wasn’t at full strength. He hadn’t been restrained then, either.

He tugged fruitlessly at the metal as Dean rose to stare at Alastair and his approaching demons, off to Castiel’s right. Castiel didn’t need to see Alastair to feel the way his power grew stronger and lay itself even more thickly over Castiel. Didn’t need to see to feel the way the other demons spread out to either side of him: two to the left and one to the right. Didn’t need to see Ruby’s self-satisfied little smile or the vicious gleam of triumph in her eyes.

Damn it all to hell and back.

Castiel looked at Sam. Innocent, trusting Sam, who thought that Ruby was helping him with the poison she fed him from her veins. Sam, who had given him a chance when he had not yet earned it on nothing more than Dean’s word when Dean hadn’t been able to do the same.

Anna stood a little behind him, one hand holding tightly to the back of Sam’s jacket. The girl had no idea, he realized. No idea what she was or why she could do the things she could. Castiel had overheard Alastair mention it enough times to have the reason seared in his brain, the knowledge of an angel gone native bouncing around like a ping pong ball inside his head.

Her other hand was clenched around something small enough to fit in her palm. Castiel zeroed in on the way she squeezed it nervously, working at whatever she held with a tension that was easy to see. He would have thought she had a stress ball if it weren’t for the situation: taking her frustrations out on a harmless piece of rubber wouldn’t do her much good here.

“Sam Winchester, what an honor,” Alastair purred, and Castiel returned his attention to the older demon. Alastair’s expression turned downright predatory when his focus landed on Dean. “Deano, so good to see you again. It’s been too long, really.”

“Rot in hell.” Castiel worked hard to hold back his sigh. Provoking Alastair to anger wouldn’t help them at all. Thankfully, _blessedly_ , Alastair chose to ignore it.

“That’s quite rude, Dean. Although I suppose I can’t expect much if you spend time with garbage like Castiel, now, can I?”

Dean’s lack of trust in Castiel apparently did not extend far enough to stop his loyalty because he visibly tensed at that declaration. He launched into a controlled rant that Castiel didn’t bother to follow. Empty words.

His lack of interest allowed him to spot Sam tossing something to the far side of the warehouse and slip a cell phone – screen still illuminated from some action – into his pocket. Castiel’s eyes flicked to Anna’s hand-

It was empty. No sign of whatever she had been holding before.

Castiel felt on edge and he looked in the direction Sam had been throwing things. In the shadows by the wall was what appeared to be some kind of rough cloth, and between that and their little group was a scattering of small objects too large and distinguishable to be dust.

Dean’s hand waved, the light from a flashlight swinging with it, and one of the small objects gleamed off-white.

Castiel tugged at the chains holding him again.

“Dean.” The man stopped, glanced back at Castiel. Their eyes met and Castiel couldn’t read anything in the hunter’s gaze. “How stupid can one human be? This was a _trick_ and you walked right _into it-_ “

“Do be quiet, Castiel,” Alastair said with a flick of his hand. Castiel’s mouth snapped open and shut uselessly as no sound came out.

“Hey,” Dean protested. Alastair’s hand moved again and Dean, too, fell silent. His hand grabbed uselessly at his throat even as Alastair leveled the room with a withering stare.

“I think that’s quite enough _talking_.” Alastair extended one hand into the gloom palm up. He curled two fingers in a summoning gesture. “Hand her over.”

Castiel closed his eyes and ignored the commotion that arose as Dean shoved himself bodily between the demons and Anna. He didn’t have much time, seconds before the older demon sent the others to take the girl forcibly, possibly less if Ruby showed her true colors and took down Sam and Dean herself. He had to stop this, had to get free, had to _do something-_

Wind battered his face and pulled Castiel back from Novak’s mind against his will, and if he’d had his voice, Castiel would have screamed his frustration.

The four beings that had appeared by the door, glowing like miniature suns within their human shells, gave him pause. Their presence was a different pressure than the oppressive heaviness of Alastair’s power. He could sense it, certainly, and he wouldn’t hesitate to say that they could exert some of it on him if they wanted, but it was...odd.

One of them stepped forward and Castiel recognized the vessel immediately: the dark-haired angel that had tried to claim Castiel’s acts as his own; the one he’d confronted at the house of one Pamela Barnes. Inias.

Castiel strained again. Inias strode forward and placed himself right in the middle of the showdown. Something bright, brighter even than the angel himself, sat in one of his pockets.

“Leave,” Inias ordered. His eyes were slits in his face as he glared at the gathered demons. Castiel felt Alastair’s hold over him waver as he sized up the new arrivals. “The girl doesn’t belong to you.”

Castiel’s skin crawled as Alastair and Inias began to slowly circle one another. He continued to try and free himself even though he knew it was in vain. His heart pounded fast and loud in his chest and he felt very alone, distanced from the demons and humans alike now that Dean had moved away to plant himself before Sam, Anna and Ruby.

Ruby. That was more painful than anything else. They _trusted_ her. They trusted her even as she got them tangled up in situations like this, and thanks to her composure they didn’t even suspect anything yet. The shorter woman stood silently by Sam’s side, dark eyes alert and constantly moving about the dim warehouse.

When it became clear that Alastair and Inias could take a while, snapping rhetoric back and forth at each other, Castiel sank back into the chair he was tied to and retreated within himself. If he was going to escape, he needed firepower. Firepower he didn’t have on his own.

Castiel burrowed inside James’ mind fast and deep, searching out his fortress of days past and all he had collected there. His host’s consciousness pulsed weakly within the mental walls Castiel had constructed to house it, and just outside, his find crackled with energy. The process of unwinding it from the walls – digging its tangled roots from the cracks it had all but embedded itself in – was painfully slow for Castiel.

He was only partially done when the commotion outside his body reached new heights and the telltale, simmering heat of an exorcism drew Castiel’s focus. He split his attention, peeking out at the warehouse.

One of the demons was slumped on the floor, an angel’s hand pressing firmly against the forehead of another just beside him. Castiel watched in horror as light flared from the other demon’s mouth and eyes, the stink of another exorcism filling the room as the empty host fell in a heap to the floor.

Castiel renewed his efforts and soon he had most of his find ready. He peeked out again to check the situation.

Everyone was shouting. In every direction he looked, Castiel saw demons fleeing the warehouse like they had been burned. Even Alastair’s oppressive powers disappeared in a blink. Inias and two other angels were extending their wings, arms outstretched to the other side of the room.

Anna Milton stood with a brightly glowing vial raised above her head. As Castiel watched, she threw it to the ground.

Shit.

Castiel ripped the energy free, buried himself in James Novak and wrapped himself as tightly as he could in the pulsing energy before the burning grace washed over him and hoped that against all odds, it would be enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel woke to an insistent pounding in his head and an ache that radiated down his back from his shoulders. He lay still for several moments just cataloging everything he could. His vessel’s heart still beat and he was breathing, so at least he wasn’t dead. Most likely wasn’t dead. He hoped.

The pain in his back told him that it was still there, as was the chill in his toes and fingers. He wondered if he should open his eyes.

Belatedly, the demon realized that there were sounds around him: the rattling hum of an air conditioner; the thumping of feet; a conversation growing louder.

He blinked open tacky eyes just in time to see Sam Winchester walk into the room. Castiel squinted at the hunter as his head flopped to the side a bit, too sore to bother keeping it still. If Sam was surprised, he didn’t show it with so much as a flinch. Instead, a smile spread across his face and he set down the tray he had carried in. Castiel eyed it, but from the angle he couldn’t see what was there. His focus shifted back to Sam as the taller man settled into a folding chair near Castiel’s shoulder.

Sam sat there and didn’t say a thing.

If Castiel had been less experienced, he’d have been unsettled by the calm regard the Winchester had for him. As things stood, he was grateful for the time to compose his thoughts. If he was honest with himself, Castiel was surprised he had survived. Demons just didn’t come away from such abundant exposure to an angel’s grace.

Eventually, Castiel croaked, “Ow.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth curled up in a sad smile. “Just glad you’re still with us, Cas.”

Castiel paused at the name as Sam started to shuffle things on the tray. He’d been given…nicknames before, odd as it was to think it. But those had mostly come from his father, more terms of distinction than affection. Castiel barely even knew this human – this human who barely knew him in return – and he had given him a sign of friendship before anyone else.

Sam touching his shoulder pulled his attention back to the present.

“I’m gonna see if we can get you sitting, if you’re feeling up to that? Then we can see about getting you some water and some broth or something,” Sam explained. Castiel ran quickly through his aches and pains and nodded. Sitting up would be a welcome change, and he was certainly thirsty.

Castiel found it surprisingly easier to sit than he had expected. Sam was helpful without being intrusive, and Castiel’s aches seemed muted when he was no longer horizontal. The demon carefully folded his legs and rested his elbows on his knees. He stretched slowly, smiling at the pleasant burn in his muscles after laying still for however long he’d been incapacitated.

“Thank you,” he sighed when Sam passed him a plastic cup filled with water.

“How long was I out?”

“Almost a week. You had us worried.”

Castiel frowned down at his cup. “That is…surprising.”

“Why?” The demon glanced at Sam, at the disbelieving look on his face. “We’re not allowed to worry?”

All Castiel offered was a shrug. “I’m not exactly on the best terms with you. Dean barely puts up with me to get the information I can offer. Which I have more of. I heard them, when they had me. They didn’t- They thought I wasn’t…paying attention all the time. But even when I couldn’t, J- Even when I couldn’t, I could still piece together what I missed,” Castiel said. “It’s… Sam, it’s bad.”

Sam laughed a little. It made the demon nervous. “We’re Winchesters, Cas. I’ve died and Dean’s gone to hell but we keep managing to pull through. I think we can handle one more thing.”

But you won’t believe me when I say Ruby betrayed you, Castiel wanted to say. Dean wouldn’t even consider it and he hates her. What if you don’t trust me with this, either?

Instead, Castiel pushed himself to his feet and took a few wobbly steps towards the door before Sam could stand and grab for his arm. He found his legs a second later and dodged Sam’s second attempt to hold him back. The pain that shot through his joints was a nuisance, but Castiel forced himself to ignore it. There were more important matters at hand, and the pain was temporary.

He’d made it out of the bedroom the brothers had placed him in and into the kitchen before Sam wrapped one massive hand around his shoulder, and hell, what did their parents _feed_ them to make them grow that big? It wasn’t enough that Castiel felt confined being in a host, but he had to feel short, too? He’d put up with the hassle of an angel denied his vessel to ensure he wouldn’t end up being short. The damn hunters made him feel it anyway.

Sam needn’t have held him back, because the sight that met Castiel’s eyes made him freeze anyway.

Dean and Ruby sat across from each other at the table, each with a plate and what looked like a mug of coffee before them. Dean was smiling. Only minutely, wariness in his eyes, but he was smiling.

At _Ruby_.

Castiel’s hands curled into fists. “I told you that you couldn’t _trust_ her,” he snarled, startling Dean and Ruby from whatever conversation they’d been having. The smile disappeared from Dean’s face and Sam’s hand tightened on the demon’s shoulder as Ruby stood and walked closer.

Castiel was going to rip her apart. He wouldn’t let everything he’d worked for go to waste because of one mishap, not again. He hadn’t counted on Alastair’s speed and strength before and that hadn’t ended well for him, He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“She delivered you and the girl to Alastair practically wrapped with a bow and I don’t care what she’s told you but she cannot be trusted!” Castiel tried to lunge forward. Sam’s other hand grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged him back before he could get more than a few inches.

“She brought us to Alastair ‘wrapped with a bow’ because we told her to.”

The Winchesters were kind enough to allow Castiel privacy to retreat back to his room after they explained the plan they had used to free him. Double crossing Alastair. Of all the idiotic, dangerous things to do…

Castiel supposed that was why they always managed to defy expectations.  It didn’t stop the hurt to his pride at having fallen for the trick even though there was no way he could have known. He was man enough to admit that his reaction – though fuelled by desperation – had helped with the illusion all the more.

He didn’t want to be in the dark like that again. Castiel was in the habit of knowing where he stood and what circumstances were; being Crowley’s favorite project had helped with that, had kept him informed of things most demons his age couldn’t even dream of being privy to. Knowing everything he could kept Castiel alive.

It was some time – Castiel wasn’t sure how many hours – before Dean finally opened the door to Castiel’s room and stepped inside. The demon watched him as he paced, socked feet quiet on the wooden floor. He didn’t move to speak, didn’t move at all to be honest. He was tired despite his inactivity that day. His stomach felt empty but he figured he could put off eating long enough to have whatever conversation Dean was nervous about.

The man stopped pacing and looked at Castiel before resuming his little trail. Castiel sighed.

“Please just say whatever it is you need to say, Winchester.”

Dean paused again by the foot of the bed and shook his head. “Castiel, I need you to be honest with me.”

Shutting his eyes and clamping his mouth shut before he blurted something he’d regret later, Castiel counted to three. “I did not realize that I had been anything but honest,” he said carefully.

Dean leaned forward with his hands on the footboard of the bed, looming closer to Castiel in a way that made him feel like he was being interrogated. He supposed be was. “Everyone – Ruby, Alastair, all those other demons? They all seemed to think that I should have recognized that guy’s name back there. Ruby, especially, was insisting that Alastair is a name I should know. And… And Castiel, I can’t think of any explanation other than that you did something to me to cause that. And I’ve tried, Cas, I really have, because you’ve been…helpful up to now. You _have_ been truthful. But… I can’t… Castiel, I can’t trust you like you want until I know.”

Castiel found his eyes fixed on his hands. They were curled loosely in his lap, as they had been when Dean walked in. So still. He wondered how long it would take him to get used to fidgeting again, incorporating little human tics into his habits and movements. Dean shifted and caught Castiel’s eye.

Holding the eye contact, Castiel admitted, “That’s only fair. Before I start though, I want you to know that it was completely unintentional and if it hadn’t happened, Anna’s grace would have destroyed me.”

“Just spit it out, man-“

“Do you know how badly a soul has to be damaged to leave a physical mark?” Dean’s mouth flattened into a straight line and Castiel had to look away. “There aren’t many things that do that. Grace can, if it’s in contact for too long. Certain curses and spells, too. And being torn in two.”

Castiel didn’t dare breathe for a moment. His ears were tuned to Dean’s still form at the end of the bed, muscles bunched and ready to spring away at the slightest movement.

Dean didn’t say anything and Castiel continued. “When I was bringing you out, you…slipped. Once. At least, I thought. Everything was a rush, and trying to fit a human soul through the gateways we use undetected… I think I was holding too tight, and I took part of you. I grabbed on again almost right away, but you were already so damaged from your time in the Pit, I didn’t notice anything else was wrong. I didn’t even notice I had it until I was put under duress. I’m just lucky that the souls of archangel vessels are more resistant to grace than the average human.

“Ruby’s right, you should recognize Alastair. But I would be very grateful if you just accept that we’ve been given an unexpected gift and drop it. You don’t want these memories, Dean. They’re nto good, and they’re not things any person would choose to keep. You don’t want them at all.”

The mattress creaked as Dean sat down beside him and Castiel was hit with a blast of the peculiar Winchester scent. A mix of cheap detergent, gunpowder and drugstore shampoo that he had come to associate with the brothers in their short acquaintance. “Give them back.”

“Dean-“

“I said give them back, and if you don’t do it right now, Castiel, I am going to send you straight back to hell, helpful or not.”

Castiel stood at the threat and walked across the room, back to Dean. He fiddled with the shades on the window in an attempt to buy some more time; the Winchester’s impatient huff drew him back.

“You won’t like them. At all.”

“I’d dislike not having them more.”

_You wouldn’t_ , Castiel thought, but he returned to the bed, crossing his legs and settling next to Dean. He took the hunter’s head between his hands.

“I can’t convince you?”

A hard green stare and minute shake of the head told Castiel everything he needed to know.

His hands dropped back to his lap and he closed his eyes. The piece of soul, tattered and damaged as it was, still shone more brightly than many others Castiel had seen. He gathered it up and wrapped around it, compressing it smaller and smaller until he was able to channel it through his host. Castiel raised his hands again. One went to Dean’s chest, settling over his heart. The other pressed against the hunter’s forehead.

“Deep breath. One. Two. Three.”

To Castiel, it didn’t feel like much of anything. It seemed a bit empty once he was done, perhaps, but that was to be expected.

Dean Winchester fell off the bed with a loud crash that had his brother bursting into the room a few seconds later.

“Dean!”

“He’s alright, just- stay back. Give him some space,” Castiel said, hopping nimbly to the door and pressing Sam back with a hand to his chest. Dean lay still on the floor, eyes wide as he stared up at the ceiling. Castiel crouched down and placed a tentative hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“Dean. Can you hear me, Dean?”

“ _Oh god._ ” Dean tensed, arm going rigid.

“Relax, Dean. You're not there. Everything is done.”

“I was- Shit, Cas, I- Oh god, I…”

“What’s done is done. There’s nothing that can change it now, Dean.”

“The things I did-“

“That wasn’t Dean Winchester,” Castiel said firmly. “That wasn't you. That was a soul that had been pushed beyond the limits of what humans are meant to endure and took an opportunity it saw to preserve its own well-being.”

Dean still stared up at the ceiling, expression deceptively blank.

“We can argue about this later. Right now you should get some rest.” To Sam, Castiel murmured, "He'll be fine. He just needs to adjust. Let him sleep some of it off. We can all discuss this more tomorrow."

Thankfully, Sam believed him and helped to raise his brother from the floor. Not knowing where Dean’s room was, Castiel watched as Sam took him away to some other part of the building. The demon didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until Ruby cleared her throat.

“Castiel. I don’t think we ever envisioned ourselves working for a common goal. Everything will go much smoother if _we_ , at least, can trust each other.”

He glanced to Ruby’s outstretched hand, the neutral set to her face.

He took her hand in his own, shook it firmly even as doubts squirmed into the back of his mind. “Let’s talk.”


	9. Chapter 9

The discussion between Ruby and Castiel ended around midnight. Partially it was a result of the agreement they had finally come to; a tentative agreement that was filled with distrust on both sides, but they’d shaken on it nonetheless. But mostly the discussion ended at midnight because that’s when Castiel’s stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead. He fetched Chinese takeout and beer from the fridge and he and Ruby made an evening of it.

It was surprisingly good company when they bothered to pay attention to each other, and Castiel was a little more comfortable with the alliance they were working towards.

Ruby left around two to go to her own room and Castiel was left alone.

He wandered following her departure. Not yet tired, with nothing else to do until the Winchesters woke, Castiel set about cataloguing the items in his room. There wasn’t much. His bed was the largest piece of furniture in the space, accompanied by a rickety nightstand, a small wooden dresser and a single chair that by then had been pushed into a corner. A single window looked out into a yard of some sort, hidden behind some plain drapes. It was too dark outside to get a glimpse of the view.

Compared to the estates he had stayed in on his previous visits topside as Crowley’s right-hand man, the place was practically medieval. The simplicity was a welcome change. Castiel almost went so far as to think that it reminded him of home but he buried that thought far, far away from the forefront of his mind.

Home was a memory best left alone.

“What’s in here?” Castiel murmured to himself as he rifled through the drawers. The nightstand was empty but for a few scraps of paper. In the dresser he found a few changes of clothes, plain jeans and t-shirts. Examining the second door in his room gave him access to a closet. Castiel couldn’t help but frown at the assortment of plaid and flannel that greeted him, a lone gray suit tucked into one corner. “And who thought I’d wear any of you in a thousand years?”

He shut the door softly and the exploration was done. It was two-thirty.

Castiel began another one. He rummaged in corners and shuffled furniture throughout his room and examined every inch he could gain access to. When he was satisfied that nothing was there, he gave the closet a sweep.

A hex bag was pushed neatly to the back of the top shelf and Castiel eyed it for several long minutes before shutting the closet door. Curious, he moved on to the main rooms.

It was more difficult there – he had to be quiet lest he wake one of the humans – but in the end rewarding. Castiel found three more hex bags in strategic locations of the house and a fourth, inexplicably, in the freezer. He left each where it was, and by the time Sam walked into the kitchen a little after seven he had a plan of attack prepared.

“You’re aware of the hex bags around the building?” Castiel asked, stopping Sam mid-coffee. The taller man looked up from his mug with a frown on his face. “Because they’re all over. And I’d like to know why.”

Sam blinked. The mug clinked as he set it back on the counter. “You found those already?”

“So you are aware?”

“They’re why we haven’t been found by any angels or demons yet,” Sam explained. Castiel looked down at his hands, back up to the hunter. “Ruby was a witch before…you know. So she made them for us.”

“And the one you had at the warehouse? The one you threw. What was that for?”

“So that the angels didn’t come too early and scare away all the demons. We needed them to fight each other so that we could grab you and run without someone taking Anna away.” Sam picked up his coffee again and Castiel didn’t ask more questions as the taller man sipped his drink. “What happened last night? With Dean. He was…” Sam trailed off, watched Castiel with guarded eyes and an expression hovering between thoughtful and threatening. The demon sighed.

“To put it bluntly? Learning he destroyed souls his last ten years downstairs. Eleven. Whatever the final count was. I stopped paying attention towards the end in favor of getting him out since no one upstairs was paying any attention.”

Sam looked away and Castiel felt more comfortable for it. As kind as Sam had been to him so far, he was still one of the Winchesters; the name held sway down below, and Castiel wasn’t keen on learning why firsthand. Not when he’d be the target instead of an ally.

As Sam processed the information, Castiel set about cataloguing the fridge inventory, having blindly grabbed the Chinese food the previous evening. There wasn’t much. A half-full carton of eggs sat on one shelf, a quart each of orange juice and milk in the door. There was an assortment of vegetables and fruits in their respective drawers and Castiel suspected that if he looked in the takeout boxes, he’d find variations on his earlier meal.

Castiel grabbed the milk and a bowl that had seen better days from one of the cabinets. He found a box of cereal in another and poured himself a bowl without bothering to check what kind it was. He felt almost human as he sat down at the table, spoon in hand, and crunched on a mouthful. The younger Winchester looked up again at the sound.

“He won’t handle knowing that well.”

Castiel swallowed. “That’s too bad. I wish we had more time, but we are operating on a very tight schedule if what I overheard the other demons talking about is true. He won’t have much time to…deal with this in a healthy way. I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s hardly guaranteed they were saying anything reliable around you. They thought-“

“They thought they were going to send me back once they tricked you into giving them the girl,” Castiel said. “What reason could they possibly have for lying like that? And besides. It’s not the first time I’ve heard rumors about this. It’s been chatter for centuries but it’s only starting to happen now. My information is good.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“They’re trying to raise Lucifer.”

Sam’s hand tightened on his drink and Castiel hoped that he would be believed. The other man said nothing for a while in favor of switching his gaze between Castiel and the chipped mug. It proclaimed “ _Silver Hills Diner_ ” in blocky, faded blue paint. Beneath it, in a smaller, lighter font, was what Castiel could only presume was a catchphrase or location; Sam’s thumb obscured it too much to read.

“Do you know about the seals?” Castiel asked when the silence had stretched on for several minutes longer than comfortable. At Sam’s nod, he continued. “There are hundreds. Maybe more, but I know for certain there are at least hundreds. And they only need to break sixty-six to set him free.

“It’s a losing battle, Sam, and the only thing that makes me think we can stop it is the fact that there are two seals that absolutely must occur at specifics points. Your brother broke the first.”

“And I can stop the last?”

Castiel nodded. “If the last seal is broken before sixty-five others have been, it won’t work. If we can break it, we can stop-“

“The apocalypse.”

Sam and Castiel turned to see Dean standing in the doorway. He leaned heavily against the threshold, face haggard and eyes trained on the floor. After several seconds he shuffled over to the table. “That’s what they used me to start, right? Don’t give me that look, Sam, when people start throwing the damn devil’s name around you know that shit’s hit the fan.”

“Dean,” Sam said, a subtle warning in his tone.

“Don’t ‘ _Dean_ ’ me,” the older Winchester snapped. “I know that this is all my fault. I know that if I hadn’t been an idiot we wouldn’t be here. But I wouldn’t change a thing, Sam. I’m not gonna say sorry for saving you, and I’m not gonna say sorry for going to-“

Castiel stood and intervened, placing himself between the two. “Enough. This is not your fault, Dean. Nor is it Sam’s. Or mine. Or Ruby’s. If anyone is to blame, it’s Inias.”

Two simultaneous ‘What?’s made Castiel smirk. Just a bit. “He tried to take credit for my work when it should have been his job all along. If they realized you were out so fast, they knew you were down there to begin with and they did nothing to get you out. You!”

“We hunt monsters, what reason would angels have to get Dean specifically out of hell?”

Dean perked up and he looked away from the floor for the first time since entering the room. He gave Castiel a quizzical look, brows furrowed, mouth drawn into a thin line. “Yesterday. You said…”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Yes?”

“You said that- Something-“

“Go on.”

“Archangels.”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. Why do you think they were so insistent on getting you downstairs within a year of your deal? Do you think a soul – any soul – is worth that much? The only reason I can think of is that they wanted to get the ball rolling now instead of ten years down the line. It’s a decade here but a lifetime down there. A dozen lifetimes.”

Dean brushed past Castiel and claimed the demon’s seat, slumping heavily once he had his elbows on the table, head buried in his hands. Sam reached out and placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder.

It wasn’t shaken off.

“The things I did, though…”

“Not you,” Sam replied instantly, eyes flashing to Castiel briefly before returning to his brother. “Like Cas said, you weren’t…you down there. That wasn’t you doing those things.”

Dean shook his head in response, but no words left his mouth.

Castiel sat across from the two hunters and tapped his knuckles on the table to get their attention. “There’s a way we can stop it.”

“I’m in,” Sam said.

Dean looked up again, stared at his brother then Castiel. The demon saw the moment Dean’s resolve hardened: jaw clenched and fists white-knuckled. “How do we make those sons of bitches pay?”

Castiel glanced over to the door at a soft sound. Ruby’s stare was cold, hard to read. She walked away and Castiel wondered. He made a mental note and turned his focus back to the brothers. “We need to find Lilith.”

-

Castiel snuck out that night and Sam Winchester followed.

He wasn’t sure exactly why he had still been up when he heard the soft footsteps going past his door – there were too many possibilities. He and his brother were apparently vessels for archangels. Dean had, from what Sam gathered, been responsible for some serious shit down in hell. Ruby had acted oddly all afternoon. The apocalypse was gearing up. They had to kill Lilith.

It all made for a night where sleep didn’t come easy no matter how hard he tried to find it. It felt only natural, then, to see what was up.

Castiel slipping through the front door wasn’t what he had expected. He had thought it could have been Dean, going off to be alone for a while after the day’s revelations, or perhaps Ruby, escaping from whatever had caused her mood to sour. He toed on his shoes and followed the newly recovered demon.

Despite Sam’s experience with following targets, Castiel was difficult to track. Even in the unfamiliar area, he seemed adept at switching back on his own trail and making haphazard, unplanned twists and turns that muddled his route. Sam was thankful that Castiel snapped twigs and small branches as he walked, unaware that he’d been followed.

He stopped in between two large oaks, shoved his hands in his pockets, and whistled.

The long, low note was loud compared to the noises of insects and rustling leaves, and Sam settled in behind a large tree stump to wait.

By the time anything happened, the Winchester was nearly ready to give up. If Castiel wanted to go out in the middle of the woods and stand there for however long he’d be there, he very well could. Sam, on the other hand, would be trying to sleep like a sane individual.

Then a branch snapped, loudly, several yards to his right. Castiel moved to acknowledge the sound; Sam felt his hackles raise.

Nothing stepped out to meet the demon, but a nearby bush shivered and was crushed to the ground.

“Good boy,” Castiel said. “I knew you could get past everyone looking for me. Now, where is she, love? Tell me you’ve found her.”

Castiel crooned to his hellhound and Sam crept slowly away; he made sure not to step on any branches that would alert the pair to his presence. Being chased down by a hellhound by an easily spooked demon in the middle of the night wasn’t his idea of fun.

Sam was lost in thought for the duration of his walk back to the cabin. He’d thought that Castiel was cut off from the resources of hell, and a hellhound couldn’t come from anywhere else that he knew of. If he was lying about that, then what else could he be lying about?

“And Ruby was acting oddly toward him all day,” Sam muttered to himself as he climbed the porch steps. It was all just too suspicious for his liking; it put Sam on edge. He crossed the building quickly, sliding back into his room as if he’d never left.

Fifteen minutes later, he heard the front door open and shut, and the _tap-tap-tap_ of Castiel’s shoes as he went to his own room.

But Sam still had to wonder if maybe that was Castiel’s only remaining ally outside their small group. God only knew how many connections he and Dean had that hunters really shouldn’t have; Castiel and Ruby were near the top of that particular list. In fact, he’d have been more surprised if a demon _didn’t_ have help from somewhere that would typically be considered off-limits.

He decided to wait and see what happened the next day. Dean may have been all for jumping into situations head first without testing the waters, but Sam liked a more methodical approach. It had served him well up to now, even if he had drifted away from the practice when Dean had been gone and Ruby had been filling in his shoes. Castiel had helped them up until now unless he was better at deception than any of them had given him credit for. There had to be a good explanation for it all.

Sam was uneasy when he finally fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

“Found her.”

Dean looked up from Sam’s laptop at the word. Across the table, Sam put down the newspaper. Castiel repeated himself. “Lilith. I know where she is. Should be there for another two weeks. That’s plenty of time for us to plan something.”

“That was fast,” Ruby said from the corner of the kitchen. Dean wasn’t sure what had gotten into her since Castiel regained consciousness. When they had first recovered the demon she had seemed disturbed by his survival, tainted by the faintest wisps of fascination. For what it was worth, Dean had thought she was glad that Castiel survived after that. He didn’t know much about how they’d interacted immediately after Castiel woke up, being incapacitated himself, but now she was short with the other demon.

If he didn’t know better, Dean would say she felt betrayed but he didn’t know why she should feel that way. None of them had gone any farther than the nearest convenience store for basic groceries since they got here. There was no opportunity for betrayal.

Dean put it down to demons being fickle and rolled his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Castiel’s hair flopped about on his head as he nodded and Dean wondered when the last time he got a haircut was. Did demons even need to get haircuts? Did their vessels’ hair even grow? “Very. Unless I’ve heard incorrectly. Lilith is in Texas. About an hour from Houston.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Ruby sit up a bit straighter. “Lilith is too dangerous, Castiel. We should stick to smaller targets-“

“Smaller targets won’t do what we need. It has to be Lilith,” Castiel continued. “And we know where she is now, but even that might change if she gets wind of what we’re planning. I don’t want to put this off long enough for her to get away.”

“But he’s right,” Sam chimed in. “The longer we wait, the more time they have to break seals.”

“How do you even know she’s in Texas? Last I checked she was flying under the radar,” Ruby said, glancing at Castiel.

The dark-haired man squared his shoulders and his chin tilted up. “I have allies. Maybe not the same ones I used to, but I did go topside occasionally. Demons aren’t the only ones who’ll make a deal for a good price.”

Ruby snorted. Castiel glared. Dean, having had enough of the bullshit, pushed his chair back and stood. “I don’t know what each of you did, but until you work it out we’re not moving a damn thing. I’m not letting two people who can’t even have a conversation watch my back when we’re going after Lilith. Come on, Sam. We’re going.”

Thankfully, his brother didn’t argue and didn’t protest, just followed him out the building and into the Impala. Two silhouettes filled the kitchen window as they drove away, and Dean promised himself that if the two hadn’t worked _something_ out by the time the hunters returned, he’d take more drastic measures.

His baby rumbled beneath him as they pulled away from the driveway and onto an old dirt road that led to some nearby suburbs and he sighed heavily.

He needed a drink.

-

When they returned, it was dark out and lights shined from a few windows. Dean killed the engine but didn’t immediately move to leave the car, wondering what they’d find when they walked inside. Would there be two demons there or one, or none at all? He wasn’t even sure which outcome he hoped for.

Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, caught his eyes briefly and left the car. Dean didn’t have much choice but to follow.

The building was quiet when they opened the front door, a quiet murmur of sound coming from the hall of bedrooms. A quick peek into Sam and Dean’s rooms showed them to be empty, as was Castiel’s. Dean felt unsettled – what if Ruby had convinced him to leave, taking information on Lilith with him? Texas was a big place and even with two weeks, they wouldn’t be able to get there and comb every possible hiding spot without a more detailed location.

A high-pitched shriek urged them to dash into Ruby’s room – the only one on the floor they had yet to look into and the one from which the sound had emanated. There was nothing there, but the screaming continued. Something flickered by the bed and Dean had a gun trained on it in an instant.

“Those clothes are ridiculous,” Castiel grumbled. Dean recognized Sam’s laptop where it sat on a low table Ruby had pushed against the window.

“Humans,” Ruby agreed from somewhere on the other side of the bed. Something dark bobbed by the headrest and Dean sighed loudly as he walked around the bed, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his jeans.

Ruby and Castiel sat with their backs against the bed, legs curled under them and a bowl of popcorn tucked between them. As he watched, Dean saw Castiel grab a handful and toss a piece into his mouth.

“You’re having a movie night,” Dean said. Castiel and Ruby turned at the same time, blue and brown eyes finding him simultaneously.

“No, we’re critiquing your horrifying entertainment options. You have nothing good to watch, you know. Is there _anything_ here that’s been released within the past five years? Castiel is woefully behind on pop culture and your collection is not helping to get him caught up any time soon.”

“So are you…good now?” Sam asked. The two demons looked at each other then back to the brothers, faces impassive.

“We have reached an understanding and we have cleared up the misconceptions that caused our earlier disagreement,” Castiel rattled off. _That_ definitely didn’t sound rehearsed _at all_.

“Right.”

“Castiel and I have something worked out, you don’t need to get your panties in a twist,” Ruby snapped, turning the movie back on. Dean recognized one of the superhero movies he’d picked up a few years back when hunting in South Carolina.

Castiel, during an action sequence heavy with explosions and gunfire, said, “We need to go to Illinois. We’ll start tomorrow.”

“I thought we were going to Texas.” Castiel shook his head.

“Change of plans. My contact reached me while you were gone; Texas was a decoy.”

The laptop erupted in a quick burst of chatter and the room’s occupants fell silent as the characters shouted at one another. It ended in a spectacular display of even more explosions and Ruby rolled her eyes at the destruction. Castiel hummed thoughtfully. “There’s no finesse to it anymore. The old days were more work but you really felt like you accomplished something.”

Ruby patted his arm. “Dude, you weren’t even _around_ for the old days. You missed the golden age and it was glorious.”

“You’re not _that_ much older than me,” Castiel eyed Ruby, half glaring, half smiling. She laughed.

“Old enough to know you’re still little more than a baby, kid.”

Dean turned away from the two and absolutely did not stomp down the hall to his room. Not even a little. “Movie night,” he scoffed to himself. “They’re ready to rip each other’s throats out tonight and by dinner they’re having a goddamn _movie night_. How’s that even _happen_.”

He started to clean his guns and equipment to take his mind off things. It’d always calmed him, the methodical steps that would ensure he could protect himself and those important to him. Even with the distraction, he still heard occasional bursts of conversation from the room down the hall, Sam’s loud exclamations joining Ruby and Castiel after a few moments. The scent of fresh popcorn cloyed in his nose until finally, Dean had to go outside to escape it and the confines of the cabin.

His skin felt prickly all over and it made him restless. He’d been unable to truly relax in days no matter what he tried, even with a trip to a bar and a day spent with he and Sam together in the Impala, driving around without any real destination like they sometimes used to, back when Sam was still young and Dean didn’t feel like he was a thousand years old.

He was _tired_ , he realized. Tired of fighting and hunting and giving the job his all when he didn’t even get a _thank you_ in return. Maybe when this was all over, he’d stop. He certainly wasn’t worthy of the titles he’d been given by others in the past: hero, savior, knight-in-shining-armor. Dean was tainted, his soul blackened and burned after all he’d done in the Pit. He didn’t deserve to be walking around, not after that, so maybe he’d just fade into obscurity once this was finished. Stop pretending to be something he wasn’t anymore.

Maybe he wouldn’t even need to worry about what he’d do after. There was no guarantee that he’d survive the final battle; they were going after Lilith, after all, and wasn’t she supposed to be the head honcho down there since Lucifer was still locked up? It was only logical to consider the possibility of laying down their lives to put an end to it.

“Not Sam though,” Dean told himself. “If anyone gets hurt, it won’t be Sam.” He’d spent too long watching over his kid brother to let anything happen to him. Sometimes, Dean could still see the short kid with floppy hair who sulked when they had to leave in the middle of a semester when he looked at his brother, the kid who was still unused to his arms and legs and who smiled so brightly when a stray dog wandered close and wagged its tail.

No, Dean wouldn’t let anything happen to his brother; that was one constant that had ruled his life for far too long for Dean to give it up now.

He exhaled heavily and turned back to the cabin. The Impala glinted in the moonlight and as he walked past he let his hand run over her frame. So many memories in something so simple as a lump of metal and upholstery.

The front door opened before he reached it; Castiel was revealed in the lone porch light, standing with his hands in his pockets. He looked young, Dean thought. Younger than Dean felt.

Dean stood next to him, leaned against the railing and pressed his forehead against his arms.

“Do you really think this will work, Castiel?”

He heard the demon shuffle around a little and guessed that he had shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Either it works or it doesn’t and the world goes to shit. I’d rather say our plan will work than consider the alternatives.”

Dean started when a warm hand landed on his back and stayed there, unmoving. He looked up at Castiel who still stared out at the yard. “Sometimes, Dean, you just have to have faith,” he said, smiled ruefully. “Ironic, isn’t it? A demon telling someone to have faith.” He laughed softly to himself, barely even a huff of breath.

“Even the bad guys gotta believe in something, right?” Dean murmured. “Just not as pure as what most of us think of.”

Castiel said nothing and Dean basked in the silence a few moments. Eventually, he heard Castiel sigh. “I think you’ll find that most of us choose not to. Hope isn’t always a good thing down below; gives them one more thing to take away from you.”

The demon’s tone gave Dean pause and he looked up. Castiel was frowning again. “What, Castiel?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Just thinking. We go after Lilith tomorrow, don’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“Just something I’ve been looking forward to for a while. It’s odd to think it will be over and we’ll all part ways soon.”

Dean hadn’t even considered that yet, so caught up in the here and now. It felt strange, thinking that Castiel might soon be gone. He hadn’t spent much time with him in comparison to other allies Dean had worked with over the years, but Castiel was earnest in a way that they hadn’t been. Even when he was angry with Dean, he’d still come to help, had still given himself up to keep Alastair at bay.

Dean shuddered as memories of Alastair flooded him, a sense of wrongness he couldn’t shake that made his hair stand on end. He almost jumped when he felt Castiel’s hand squeeze the back of his neck, having forgotten it was even there. Castiel didn’t squeeze again, though his hand rubbed in slow circles across his back and shoulders. Dean couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that.

“We’ll get by. You Winchesters have a knack for making it through things. We’ve never been quite able to account for it,” Castiel murmured. Dean only hoped he was right.

-

The room was hazy, indistinct and dark. It seemed like the edges were blurred, distorting his perspective and making him dizzy. He felt sick; his arm flared with pain at the slightest movement; his chest ached in a way that made him think he had cracked at least one rib.

Even his _scalp_ felt tender.

Dust plumed up from the floor when someone else walked into the room. He let a smile of relief creep onto his face when he could recognize his brother. “You okay?” he croaked, throat raw and dry. His brother nodded, looking around the room dumbly. He could tell the moment that the body in the corner of the room was spotted, though he couldn’t remember when it had gotten there anyway.

“We did it.”

“Yeah.”

“Cas?”

“I don’t know. Last I saw he was with you.”

His brother nodded slowly again, eyes still watching the body. He turned away after a moment. “Gotta find ‘im. Couldn’t done it without him.”

They both left the room, moving slow from injuries and exhaustion. When they reached the exit and stepped outside, they both looked around tiredly. He smiled when he saw Castiel standing in the middle of the parking lot, bat still held in a vice-like grip. Castiel’s back was to them and his brother called out to get the demon’s attention.

Castiel turned and looked right through them, eyes blank, filmed over with black. Something dark and wispy leaked from his mouth and nose and swirled like smoke around his neck and shoulders. “Cas. You okay man?”

Neither brother moved. The demon blinked; tilted his head to the side; fiddled with something on his left hand.

Then Castiel disappeared, consumed by a cloud of sparks burning so brightly the brothers had to look away. His ears rang as his brother shouted above the roar of flame, a drawn out wail of “CAS!” The times he’d heard his brother sound so terrified were few and far between.

When he could look back again, Castiel’s body was stretched out flat on the ground. It looked as serene as anything he’d ever seen, hands folded on chest, a ring gleaming on one finger, and lips curled up faintly in a near-smile.

Sam jolted awake, sweat along his brow and trickling slowly down between his shoulder blades. His neck felt sore and light flashed in his eyes. It took him a moment to recognize the back seat of the Impala and Ruby’s hand on his shoulder. Dean’s eyes glanced to him in the rearview mirror and Castiel was twisted in the passenger seat to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Sam was reminded suddenly of the night Castiel had snuck out to meet a hellhound in the woods.

“We’re on our way to Illinois,” he said, half a question and half a reminder that nothing had actually happened yet. Ruby confirmed his statement; Sam looked down at his hands where they had curled around the edge of the seat and dug into the cushion.

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Dean asked. Sam felt the Impala drift to the right and slow down, signs that Dean was about to pull over, and he shook his head.

“Just a dream. It’s nothing. Keep driving.” It had to be just a dream. Sam hadn’t had anything like precognition for months. Longer. There was no reason for it to come back now, especially one that made such little sense. Demons didn’t catch fire when they left a host, didn’t even create much pomp or circumstance when they left of their own will rather than an exorcism.

He shook his head. “Seriously, Dean. Everything’s fine. I just want this to be over with.”

The faster they finished, the sooner Sam could be sure that his dream was nothing more than his subconscious dealing with stress.

He didn’t see the way Castiel and Ruby locked gazes, or the thin tendrils of oily black that seeped away from his legs to the passenger seat, curling around Castiel’s hand before sinking into his skin. Castiel turned back to the open road ahead as Ruby ran a comforting hand across Sam’s back.


	11. Chapter 11

The man’s face wasn’t familiar to Sam, but he felt like he should have been. Standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets before the low railing, he seemed larger than he really was. Like if Sam walked up to him, he’d find he was as small as a young kid again, looking up at the adults by craning his neck and watching the bottoms of their chins.

The man turned, looked at him and smiled. It wasn’t kind, but neither was it cruel. It was simply a twist of the mouth, an expression for the sake of an expression rather than to accompany some emotion.

His eyes looked dead and dark and he made Sam’s stomach curl unpleasantly.

His eyes sparkled with more life than Sam could truly understand and it only served to confuse him.

The man looked away, back to the cliff and the rocks and the sea beyond the fence. His hands came out of his pocket and he jumped, pushing his body over the railing and walking closer to the edge.

“Hey,” Sam called out, already reaching for the stranger’s arm. He slipped out of Sam’s grasp as if made from smoke. “Hey, you could fall.”

“I already have,” the man replied, staring at him with eyes that were dead and shining and dark; so dark. “I stood too close to the edge and I didn’t watch where I stepped and I fell right off. I fell so far I lost anything and everything I possibly could, and then I lost some more. Then I was born again.”

His mouth curled again, a parody of a smile. “I’m due for another. So it shall be until the end of time. I will fall and I will be stripped to nothing and I will be reborn again and again until it is time that I should be born no more.”

He stood on the very edge of the cliff, his toes hanging out over empty air as his heels rocked slowly back and forth, back and forth. A strong breeze ruffled him – pushed his sway closer and closer to falling – and Sam wondered why he couldn’t feel it on his own skin.

“Like a phoenix,” the man continued and his grin was the first genuine one Sam had seen since he got here. “and now it is time for my end to bring my new beginning.”

He threw himself into the air and Sam lurched forward. “Cas-”

“Yes, Sam?”

He blinked, looking over at the demon by the room’s entrance. He had one brow arched, a small pile of papers held in his hands. Sam blinked several more times, looked at the room around him.

“Did you need something?” Castiel asked.

“No, just- No. Sorry. Got ahead of myself.”

The demon frowned but he looked back at his papers and wandered to one of the beds. Sam looked down at his hands where they rested on the keys of his laptop. He’d been researching something, he remembered. He’d been researching it and he’d just…drifted off. Daydreaming.

Sam pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, scrubbing the tiredness away. He needed some rest, he decided. They all needed some, and as soon as this was all over they’d be able to have it.

Across the room, Castiel’s eyes flickered black and half a shadow flitted across the room, away from the younger Winchester and back to the demon. He shuffled his papers and a tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before it was gone.

-

The building was tall, stretching several stories higher into the sky than its neighbors. The walls were pale gray, the windows large and shining in the noontime sun. On the lower levels, they could see employees scurrying about, unaware of all that would be happening in a few short hours. Dean almost felt sorry for them as he sat in the Impala across the street. He’d dropped Sam, Ruby and Castiel off at a motel and volunteered to do recon while they prepared things for the assault.

If Castiel’s information was correct, Lilith was currently in a safe room on one of the top floors and as unprepared as the employees on the lower levels for any kind of assault. However Castiel had gotten the info, he’d done it more discreetly than the Winchesters’ usual methods.

Dean wasn’t sure what to think of that, but he’d decided not to worry about it until today’s outcome was known.

He picked up his binoculars again and looked at one of the higher floors. There was less activity there, but several windows offered him a view of people sitting at desks and computer stations. Dean wondered where Lilith was in the maze – it was one thing Castiel hadn’t been able to discover, unfortunately – and whether she suspected anything at all. It seemed almost too good to be true, that Castiel could find her so quickly and so easily when they had been searching with no results for much longer.

It didn’t help that Castiel had been acting odd in their last hour of travel, shuffling around and wringing his hands almost constantly when he’d been still for the last few days. Dean thought that maybe it was because his host had been from Illinois, he remembered Castiel telling him that before, and maybe it was all some sort of delayed guilt from when he’d first taken possession months ago.

A demon who felt guilty. Who could’ve known?

As long as it didn’t interfere with what they had to accomplish here, he wouldn’t say anything. Thankfully, the only person who seemed more focused on catching Lilith than Dean was Castiel. The man’s dedication was almost frightening at times; he was always awake and working before Dean even stirred and he continued working long past the times when even Dean had to admit he was too tired to function any more. He wasn’t sure if the guy was even sleeping at this point.

Dean coaxed the engine to life and drove away, office building in his rearview mirror. One way or another, it would all be over by the next morning – for better or worse.

The motel room was a strangely calm flurry of activity when he returned. Castiel sat, as he had every night, at the small table by the motel’s window, painstakingly jotting things down and making calculations. Sam and Ruby were near the far bed with an array of weapons spread out before them. Ruby was holding her knife, explaining something to Sam in low tones that wouldn’t disturb Castiel.

His bag thumped loudly when Dean set down and the group looked at him briefly before returning to their respective tasks. Castiel shut down the laptop with a few swift clicks and stood. “Walk with me,” he murmured as he passed, slipping out the door without another word.

Dean obediently turned and followed and he had to jog to catch up to Castiel across the parking lot.

“If things don’t go well tonight-“ Castiel started.

Dean didn’t let him finish, interrupting with a loud, “It will be alright. It has to be.”

Castiel didn’t even look at him, just kept pacing by the edge of the asphalt. “I’m being realistic. If anything happens, I have a safe house we can retreat to. It’s much better than anything you or your brother have prepared, completely off the radar as far as demons are concerned. It’s safe there. We’ll have time to regroup.”

“Then tell me when we’re running, because you’re not getting left behind, Cas.”

The demon paused in his pacing for half a breath before he resumed his walking. “If circumstances separate us, I don’t want you left hanging and wondering where you can be safe. I want you to know this address.”

“You couldn’t say this in front of Sam and Ruby because?”

Castiel flinched and stopped his pacing again. He didn’t pick it up again this time. “Old habits die hard,” he said eventually. “I’ve been on the run for a while, Dean, and before that I lived in a place very different from what you’re used to here. I’m not accustomed to…sharing information like this. If you want to tell your brother and Ruby, go right ahead. I won’t.”

The demon left then after pressing a paper into the hunter’s hand and Dean watched as he walked down the block and turned the corner. He was out of sight soon and Dean was left alone in the lot. With nothing else to do, he went back to the room.

Sam and Ruby again looked at him when he walked in but Sam’s look was one Dean was familiar with, not an outright question but curious nonetheless.

“Cas has a safe house for us in case things go south tonight.”

Sam nodded, turned back to the arsenal and began picking out weapons, arranging them in holsters and bags. Ruby didn’t, watched Dean for a few more seconds, and he had the feeling that she understood why Castiel had taken him aside more than he ever would. She stopped watching him eventually and packed her own things up.

Dean joined in and by the time Castiel returned, the sun was starting to drift towards the horizon and they were ready. Castiel grabbed his own things from the table and joined them in the car within minutes and they were off to face Lilith and her goons and whatever else fate had deemed appropriate for them to run into.

The drive to the offices was filled with chatter about entrance and exit strategies, plans and contingencies and anything that might be information they’d have to recall at a second’s notice. Sam had been chosen to wield the demon-killing knife since he would have the best chance of getting close to Lilith if their plan worked the way they expected.

The drive felt both impossibly long and impossibly short, everything they’d been working towards coming to fruition. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t feel even a little anxious, even a little scared. If he was completely honest, he’d even say he was terrified; he’d seen the kinds of things people went through down in the Pit, had inflicted much of it himself, and if they failed there was no doubt as to where he and his brother would be sent for punishment. Dean would do anything to keep that from happening, would do anything to keep him from becoming the same _thing_ he had been warped into again.

Then it was all over and they were splitting up – Ruby and Sam to the back entrance, Castiel and Dean to create a distraction up front – and _this was really happening_.

“Holy shit,” Dean whispered under his breath as Castiel wrenched the front doors from their hinges with a quick tug of his hand. They were tossed aside with a jarring clank and Castiel stopped only briefly to survey the damage.

“Not very holy, Dean,” he said, and then Castiel was trotting into the building. Had they not been under time constraints, Dean would have taken a moment to sigh. As things were, he simply soldiered on.

The floors were so empty it was eerie, their footfalls echoing down the tiled floors and their shadows stretching far where light from streetlamps fell through the windows. Castiel was fast, efficient, and scarily destructive. Dean hadn’t expected it of the man – he’d always seemed so composed, prone to delicate machinations that would get deeds done.

Castiel proved to be the opposite. He seemed to take delight in ripping doors and desks from their places in walls and screwed into floors. He let out a near joyous bark of laughter when a water cooler erupted after a collision with the elevator doors, flooding the immediate area and ruining any unfortunate papers that got caught by the wave of water. Dean didn’t even have to lift a finger and soon Castiel was searching for the stairs to the next level.

It was just as deserted as the first, but the one after it was sparsely populated with men and women who stood too still and moved to precisely to be human. It reminded Dean suddenly of just how normal Castiel seemed, tiny habits woven through his movements and twisted into his words that if Dean hadn’t known better, he never would’ve suspected Castiel was anything but human.

Castiel’s takedown of part of the small group was brutal in its speed and Dean wondered if it was a skill that could be taught and passed on once this was all over. Dean finished off his own adversaries quickly and he was panting from the exertion by the time they all lay still.

The next floor was near-packed and this time, Castiel didn’t go for subtle. He let his footfalls announce his presence, clacking and echoing until all eyes were on him. He grinned, wicked, and with his eyes filmed over, Dean remembered just exactly what he was dealing with.

Castiel raised one hand and half smiled, half bared his teeth at the other demons. “Hello, boys and girls. Am I late for the party?”

“You!” one hissed.

All hell broke loose and although Dean got involved, things happened too quickly for him to do as much as he’d have liked. Castiel seemed to loom larger than he actually was, filled more space than was physically possible. His presence alone felt overpowering, an almost physical sensation that Dean hadn’t experienced before. One by one, plumes of smoke left their host bodies and before they could escape, Castiel blinked and they burned in midair. It filled the floor with a horrible wailing, and after all was said and done, it was Castiel’s turn to pant heavily, his eyes flashing between pitch black and an absurd blue, much brighter than his eyes normally were.

“Come on,” he huffed after Dean had pushed himself back to his feet. “She’ll be up there. We need to make sure Sam and Ruby have enough time.”

The final flight of stairs they climbed was no different than any of the others. The walls were off-white, the stairs and dull gray. The most colorful thing in the stairwell was the railing and even that was only a drab burgundy. The door that waited was uniform.

Castiel crumpled it like a piece of paper and they walked onto the floor.

There were, oddly enough, no more demons on the floor. Even the floor space seemed bare, with the desks and cubicles only arranged by the windows. A lone chair sat in the middle of the room, and in the chair sat a woman with hair in a tight bun and eyes like coal.

Castiel’s hands clenched into fists and the woman who couldn’t be anyone but Lilith stared them down, lips pursed and nose wrinkled. Her gaze switched slowly between Dean and Castiel. It settled on Castiel a moment later.

“So. You,” she said, eyes narrowing even further as Castiel crossed his arms.

Dean forced a smile despite his nerves. “Just can’t keep us away,” he quipped. Lilith looked at him and Dean suppressed a shudder. It wasn’t just Lilith’s part in his deal that made Dean feel so uneasy, but the complete lack of concern she showed. She certainly looked annoyed, disgruntled by their meddling, but worried? If she felt it, her poker face was perfect.

“You’ve made a mess of everything,” Lilith sneered at Dean, practically spitting the words out. She looked at her fellow demon again. “You and Crowley have been thorns in my side for a long time but you just had to take it to the next level, didn’t you. He’s not supporting you any more, you know. Any help you were counting on from him won’t come.”

Dean felt even more nervous as Castiel’s confident expression faded away and Lilith laughed.

“Still so confident in your plan, _darling_?”

Castiel shook his head quickly, frowning, and Dean clenched his jaw. Castiel had said-

“You’re wrong. You’re lying,” Castiel added quickly. “He told me-“

“Exactly what I told him to tell you, little Castiel. Ha. I should’ve suspected from the start it was a bad idea to let him give you that name. I said it would just set you up for failure and would you look at what happened? I was right!”

“The fuck does my name have to do with this?” Castiel snapped.

“You mean he never told you? Crowley downed an angel when he came to us; take a guess at what it was called.”

Castiel finally moved after that, but rather than rushing forward like Dean had expected, he took a tiny step backwards and shook his head. “No.”

Lilith started her advance then, a slow march forward that Castiel matched pace for pace. Dean mirrored the steps too, retreating carefully to keep both demons within his line of sight. “Yes,” Lilith said. “And look at how it’s ruined you! Helping the Winchesters. Betraying your own – you’re a disgrace, Castiel.”

Suddenly, a phone started ringing, blasting a Queen song through the floor. Castiel stopped retreating and smirked. “Maybe,” he acquiesced. “But at least I’m an effective one.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and rejected the call, tossing the device carelessly to the floor afterwards.

Lilith looked like she was about to ask what Castiel could possibly mean, but she never got the chance. From above, two shapes dropped down and pinned her, the ugly sound of breaking bone cracking across the room as she was downed. Ruby had her pinned in seconds, Sam crouched beside them, and it was only a matter of plunging the knife into her back before it was done.

When it was done, there wasn’t even a tiny flash of light: just Lilith’s body crumpled on the floor and four sweaty humans and demons standing over the corpse. The streetlights were on outside.

Castiel fell to his knees after a few moments of the group catching their breath, face blank and eyes trained on Lilith’s body. Ruby gripped his shoulder, gave it a small shake. Castiel stared.

“We did it,” Ruby said. “No more master plan. No more apocalypse. For now, at least.”

“Yeah,” Castiel whispered. “Everything’s over.” An expression flashed across Ruby’s face too fast for Dean to interpret and then she smiled.


	12. Chapter 12

“We…we need to go,” Sam said eventually, glancing to the windows. “Put some space between us and this place before the cops show up tomorrow. God knows we don’t need our faces all over the news again.”

Dean helped Ruby pull Castiel to his feet and they all trailed downstairs. Sam and Ruby were covered in dust from the crawlspaces, blood flecked on Sam’s arm where it had splattered on him after removing the knife from Lilith’s back. Castiel looked presentable but tired, his powers having kept him from getting too messy as he fought. Dean was messy with blood smeared over his clothes. He tugged off his jacket; his button-down was mostly clean beneath it.

When they stepped out into the cool night air in the parking lot, Castiel felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

As they walked across the tarmac, Castiel thought.

He thought of the beginning when he was frightened and scared and hurting, Crowley’s wide, toothy grin and an outstretched hand to pull him up and away from the dark place where he was first sequestered. He thought of his education, his rise from a lowly, withered soul half an inch from shattering into a thousand pieces to a demon with not inconsiderable influence among higher circles.

He remembered the way that older demons still looked down at him, thought him lesser because he hadn’t been born in the typical sense, hadn’t bloodied his hands before his soul turned to smoke and ash. Weak willed, they had called him. Not able to handle the pressure even the weakest of demons sent topside had to endure.

_And look at all I’ve accomplished,_ Castiel thought. _Look at all that I have brought to fruition without a single one of you raising a finger to help me. ‘Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair.’_

He felt Dean tense again when he saw another car pulling into the lot several spaces away from the Impala, reached for his gun. Castiel put a hand on his arm, stopped him. “No, Dean. I asked them to come.”

“Them? Who?” Sam asked, glancing over to the car himself. It was a sedan, nothing much. A woman stepped out of the driver’s seat and someone else opened and closed the passenger door. The woman looked curious and cautious when she spotted them approaching. Castiel could tell the moment she could clearly see his face – hers went red with fury.

-

_“How can you possibly do this?” Ruby snarled at him; her hand was tight around his throat and her eyes were blacker than pitch. Teeth bared, she looked almost feral._

_He retaliated in kind, pressing back with more than just the strength of his host’s body. She wavered – nearly lost her grip on him – but she proved more resilient than he had anticipated. He figured it was only fair; she was centuries older than he was, was stronger and a better judge of her capabilities. “How could you possibly think it’s a good idea? If he considers humans a plague, what sort of opinion do you think he has of us things made from corrupting them?”_

-

“How _dare_ you,” she hissed, staring straight at Castiel. “How dare you do this to us, J-“

“James isn’t here at the moment, would you care to leave a message?” Castiel asked, allowing his eyes to darken. The world seemed more black and white that way, everything distinct and crisp in his vision, even in the low light. He let the color slip away as quickly as it had come, and the woman looked like she’d seen a ghost. A girl peeked around the edge of the car and she gasped when she caught sight of him.

“Daddy? Daddy why-“

“Get back in the car, Claire!”

“But Mom-“

“The girl is in no danger. I don’t need anything from her,” Castiel sighed. His knife hit the blacktop with a loud clatter that made the mother flinch – with some prodding, Jimmy’s memories told him her name was Amelia. Claire trotted quickly to grab at her mother’s arm, watching Castiel with wide, hopeful eyes even as she hid herself from view. Castiel handed his gun to Dean – no need to risk it going off after a fall – and threw a few more small throwing knives to the ground.

When he was finished, Castiel knocked the knives away with one boot, far enough that they were no longer within arm’s reach but not so far that they’d be lost or forgotten. He held up his hands and tugged off his coat to show the woman he was now unarmed.

Amelia looked unconvinced and Castiel inwardly sighed.

“James told you that angels were telling him what to do.” She nodded stiffly. “Well I was certainly telling him things, but I’m afraid I may have led him a little astray with the whole angel deal,” Castiel drawled. “But he’s been very cooperative and I have no pressing appointments right now, so I think that he deserves a reward, wouldn’t you think?”

-

_“I won’t be able to stay after Lilith is gone,” Castiel explained quietly. It had been several hours since the Winchesters left and his face was still spotted with scrapes and flecks of blood where Ruby had injured him earlier. As he spoke, he could feel his lip stitching itself together millimeter by painful millimeter. “Anyone we fail to incapacitate before we get to her will hunt me with everything they’ve got.”_

_“You can’t run forever,” Ruby interrupted. She still looked suspicious – still watched Castiel like he could strike at any moment – but she was listening. It was more than he could have hoped for._

_“I don’t plan to. I have measures in place to prove that I was working under Lilith’s own orders.”_

_Ruby stared him down, so still Castiel was again reminded that she was just as human as he was. “Crowley won’t be caught dead backing you up. If he really wants to take over, he’ll put as much distance between you as he possibly can.”_

_Castiel chuckled. He shook his head. “I never would have touched a single hair on Dean Winchester’s head if I didn’t have a plan to keep myself alive that was completely autonomous from Crowley’s influence. I’m confidant that I’ll be back where I should be within a year or so.”_

_“You would’ve left him there?”_

-

Dean frowned as Castiel lied straight to the woman’s face. The demon’d told him personally that angels really had been trying to get his host to say yes, that it was only luck that had gotten Castiel to him first. So why tell this woman otherwise?

When Castiel started mentioning rewards, Dean grabbed his arm. “Cas, what are you-“

“Be quiet, please, Dean. I’m trying to do something…” He paused, face screwing up like he detested the idea of whatever he was about to say. He shook his arm from Dean’s grasp. “Something…just, I suppose. Probably not the right word but I’ve never really been one for all that moral bullshit.”

Dean nearly balked at Castiel’s gruff manner and insolent tone. He’d never seen the demon act this way, and while Castiel wasn’t one for avoiding foul language, his use of it was out of character.

“James was good to me. I don’t need him anymore. It’s only logical that I give him back.”

This time, Dean forcefully pulled Castiel several feet away, leaning in close and growling in his ear, “You told me the guy was a fuckin’ _vegetable_ , man, what the hell?”

Quietly, Castiel responded, “He was. But me being in here and hiding out from Alastair? It pulled him back. He misses them, Dean. And without him, even that bit of your soul wouldn’t have protected me. Not completely. But a whole human soul with a little extra kick from an archangel’s vessel? More than capable of shielding something from an angel’s grace. I owe him, Dean. I won’t subject him to life as a demon’s host after that.”

Moving away, Castiel laughed sharply and proclaimed, “Demons lie, Dean. It’s sort of in my job description.”

He walked away, his back still towards the group and his eyes trained on Dean.

Sad was the only word Dean could think of to describe the look on Castiel’s face. He realized why too late, when Castiel had already returned to his place and was beginning to turn away, mouth opening.

“Castiel!”

-

_“What do you need me to do?”_

_“Call this number, arrange for them to meet us at Lilith’s location a short while after we finish. If we’re going to succeed, we’ll be an hour at most.”_

_“That’s all?”_

_“One more thing. Don’t interfere with what I do to Sam Winchester.”_

_“If you hurt him-“_

_“I don’t want to do anything of the sort,” Castiel snapped, already tired and at the end of his patience for the day. Ruby looked just as agitated. “But the last time hell was making war plans, he had premonitions. It’s entirely possible he won’t remember what I do, and it’s quite possible he’ll never make a conscious connection, but in the back of his mind there’ll be something telling him that everything that’s happening makes sense. After all, if he’s expecting me to disappear after all this happens, he’ll be much more prepared to accept that I disappear after all this happens.”_

_“And Dean? How are you going to prepare him?”_

_Castiel looked away and his hands fell still where they had been tapping a rhythm out on the bedspread. He looked at the smear of blood on his knuckles where they’d split open and healed over. “I’m afraid there won’t be an opportunity to do that. I don’t know if I’ll even get to say a real goodbye.”_

_He didn’t want to see if Ruby pitied him so he stood and left the room. He turned the sink on as hot as it would go to scrub his hands. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could clean them of all the wrongs they’d done since his death._

_He could be washing them for a long time, he thought. A very long time._

-

Smoke, thick and black and flashing with lines of icy blue, flooded out of Castiel’s mouth and swirled angrily above their heads. The body crumpled to the ground; Amelia hugged her daughter close to her as Claire screamed in fear. Sam watched in silence and Dean felt horrified as Castiel- no, Castiel’s body, twitched, eyes fluttering open with a groan.

Even if he hadn’t seen Castiel bail out – couldn’t still see his turbulent form hovering above them all – Dean would have known that this man was different. He looked at Dean like a stranger, was wide eyed and scared in a way that Dean didn’t expect Castiel to be.

The cloud of Castiel descended and surrounded the man for a fleeting second and then he swarmed away. He blew over Dean and for a heartbeat he felt like he was back at the beginning, back when he was still dirty from digging himself out of his own grave and some unknown presence hovered all around him and whispered words he couldn’t understand in his ear.

Then Castiel was gone, and Dean hadn’t been able to thank him or even to say goodbye.

 “Amelia?” the man on the ground croaked. He sounded like shit.

And God, his voice wasn’t even the same.

Dean watched numbly as the man shakily pushed himself to his feet and embraced his wife. Didn’t really watch as they both started crying and their daughter wormed her way between them. He felt empty the whole time they loaded themselves into the sedan and drove away, tossing goodbyes over their shoulders and disappearing.

He let Sam drive them back to the motel and back out of town, back to their cabin and the forest and the solitude. Ruby didn’t provoke him, but she was too calm to have been unaware of Castiel’s plan. They had been on almost good terms before they went after Lilith and she didn’t even seem surprised to see him go.

They camped out in another motel that night a state over when Sam was too tired to drive in a straight line. Dean let his brother and Ruby take the room on the ground floor and he climbed the stairs to the second story, where the only other open room had been. He set his things down on the bed closest to the door – the bed he’d always claimed for as long as he could remember.

Not that he had much of a choice this time. The other bed was absent, a ratty couch and coffee table combo filling the empty space.

Dean looked at the television with disdain, not in the mood to watch, but not yet ready to sleep. He felt too mixed up to even try going out to a bar and drinking.

He somehow found himself several blocks away in a park. For a small town, it was fairly nice: benches were spaced evenly around a small playground with several others scattered among grassy fields and even a small copse of trees. He placed himself on one of the benches near the trees.

Twisting to lay his head down on the wooden bench, the chill seeping through his jacket, Dean felt somewhat calmer than he had a few hours before. The sounds of the town were lively but muffled by the distance between the edge of the park and the bench-encircled trees.

Dean felt like he could disappear if he stayed there long enough without moving. Mind drifting, thoughts branching off on tangents and limbs growing heavy, he wondered if maybe he already had. He was feeling lost now that everything was done and there were no pressing matters for them to deal with; he still wasn’t reconciled with the beast he had become during his time in the Pit and he was grasping for closure wherever he might find it. He had hoped that Castiel – Castiel, who had gone through the same things he had and hadn’t judged him or pitied him, who had simply accepted that it had happened, moved on and pushed him to do the same – would help him find it, but now even that chance was gone. He supposed he could ask Ruby, but even though he had accepted her into their team he didn’t feel close to her. She was an ally and a strong one at that, but she wasn’t a friend, not to him.

Barking prompted him to open his eyes and turn his head. Within the trees he could see two shapes moving quickly, but there was no chilling fear that usually accosted him when hellhounds had drawn near in the past. He watched cautiously as the shapes grew bigger and clearer, finally coming into view a few yards away from the bench.

There were two dogs – one bigger, all black with a lean build. The other, smaller, was a mix-match of whites, grays and blacks all across its pelt. It was fluffy, still barely more than a pup. It barked loudly again and the older dog snuffled at its back. The almost-pup butted its head against the older dog’s chest and wagged its tail slightly. The black dog didn’t react but watched the other carefully. It glanced at Dean after a minute or so, ears twitching.

The pup looked up then too and Dean smiled at it, held out his hand. The small dog quivered for a few seconds before creeping closer, tail tucked between its legs. It sniffed Dean’s hand cautiously, eyes flicking around as if it expected danger. After a few seconds it stopped, licked Dean’s fingertips, then bolted off again. The older dog took chase immediately, and the two were out of sight before the hunter could even sit up straight.

He sighed heavily when they were no longer in sight and wiped his hand off on his jeans. He stayed there a while longer, faint barks echoing in the distance, until he was too cold to stay any longer. On his journey back to the motel, he stopped only briefly to get a bag of chips from the vending machine on the first floor.

The room felt very empty without his brother or Castiel there when he tried to sleep and despite the sounds of late-night traffic that drifted through the walls it felt too quiet. There was no whisper of sheets rustling, no sounds of another person breathing and resting. Just Dean and his own heartbeat and his own breaths to fill the silence.

He wondered why Castiel had left without a word, why he hadn’t tried to come back and explain himself yet. Surely there weren’t so few hosts to pick from it would take this long? He wasn’t sure how long had transpired between Castiel dragging him out of hell and the demon acquiring his vessel, but he hoped it had been fast. There had been several days at least between Dean’s resurrection and Castiel’s first appearance, so he couldn’t be too sure.

He fell asleep somewhere along the line and woke to Sam shaking his shoulder. His brother’s hair was still damp from a shower and some of the water dripped onto Dean’s face, made the older hunter wrinkle his nose.

“Ruby has something that she wants to show us,” Sam told Dean when the older brother was sufficiently wakeful. Then he was gone again and Dean ran a hand over his face.

-

_“I have an idea, Castiel.”_

-

Within ten minutes he was washed and knocking on Sam and Ruby’s door. The demon let him in after the first knock, nodded towards the tiny kitchen table where Sam already sat. Dean joined him, eyed the laptop where it was currently turned away from them, and focused again on Ruby.

She stood by the table – no other chair left for her – and hit a few buttons on the laptop before turning it to face them. She moved away and Dean heard the bed creak under her weight but before he could make any other observations he was distracted by Castiel’s voice coming out of the laptop speakers and his face appearing on the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's line 'Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair' comes from the poem Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a quick thanks to all of you for reading, whether you've been with me from the first chapter or only just recently started reading. Each one of your comments and kudos means the world to me. Happy reading!

“Dean, Sam,” the demon greeted, nodding his head as his eyes looked at something behind the camera. A sound like a door opening and closing echoed in the background.

“What the hell, Cas,” Dean snapped, ready to rip the other man a new one, but before he could say more, Castiel continued.

“If you’re seeing this now then I suppose Ruby really is keeping her word. Thank you for that. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for us to find common ground.” His smile was fleeting, a little pained. “But we’ve already talked about that.” His eyes focused back on the camera. “So. Um. Well, I suppose this also means we did it, right? Stopping Armageddon, that is. I, uh, I’ll be honest I’m not completely sure it will work. I mean, it stands to reason. But something of this magnitude…”

He left them a video. He knew full well that he’d be leaving without any sort of goodbye and left them a goddamn video to try and make up for it. Fucking hell.

“But if you’re seeing this then it worked, so you have nothing to worry about. Congratulations, boys. And if you do- did it, then you’ll also know that I’m gone. I, ah, had… It’s not easy, staying unknown and doing the things I did. So. Well, if you’d believe it, I actually stole some of _your_ notoriety. Castiel: the demon who stole the Winchester from right under Alastair’s nose.

“God, he hated me for that. And you don’t…you can’t keep friends in high places when you do something radical like that. They don’t like to associate with people like me. Because I could drag them right down with me. But I won’t put James through that. I’ve called his wife and arranged for her to come to the end. Well, Ruby called. She couldn’t hear me or she’d get…she’d be very suspicious. So hopefully she’ll be- she _was_ there. He deserves that, after all he’s done.”

Castiel looked ashamed suddenly, ducking his face so that the camera couldn’t pick it up. When he looked into it again, he still looked nervous. “I didn’t-“ A heavy, frustrated sigh. “He wasn’t gone. Not like everyone thought. Not like _I_ thought. He was just…dormant. Protecting himself. And when Alastair had me, I hid myself deep enough within his mind that I found him. And he’s with me now, Dean, I brought him back and I can’t- he doesn’t need to experience that, so I’m giving him up. They need him more than me. His family needs him more than I need a familiar face to hide behind. So this is best for everyone- everyone involved,” Castiel said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat loudly before looking away from the camera again. The sound of rustling paper filled the speakers.

“There’s- It’s been an honor, working with you. And I’m sorry that it will end this a-abruptly.” Another deep breath, shaky that time. “Windom, Minnesota. There’s a family there. A mother and son, the Milligans. They- looking for Lilith, I’ve heard that they have a bit of a ghoul problem and I don’t think they’ll notice it or even know what it is before it’s too late. So if you could….if you could swing by, help them out… I think they’re good people for you to know.

“So I’m…that’s it, I guess. I don’t really know what else I want you to know. It’s been an honor. And I mean this in the best possible way, but I really hope I don’t see either of your faces for a very long time,” Castiel finished, almost whispering he was speaking so softly. One of his hands came up to cover his mouth, his eyes going to look, again, at something behind the camera. He nodded and Ruby popped into view, hand reaching for something on what must have been the keyboard of the laptop.

In the brief seconds before the video stopped, Dean thought that Castiel looked tired and just a little bit afraid.

But of what? Making a video instead of manning up and telling them to their faces that he was going to bail out as soon as they’d ganked Lilith?

“So that’s it,” Dean asked as he shoved his chair away from the table and paced away. He stopped moving by the window, long enough to glance out with his back to the others. “He’s just gone now? No ties, just ‘poof?’”

“Dean,” Ruby chided.

Dean barged on, saying, “He doesn’t even give us a choice? He doesn’t even want to _see_ us any more – we got him into too much trouble – so that’s _it_?”

“Because he doesn;’t have the luxury of attachments right now!” Ruby stood and got up in Dean’s face despite the few solid inches he had on her. “The things he did usually warrant _destruction_ if you get caught. He turned traitor against hell, deceived Alastair after he’d already been interfering with the guy’s work on you for months, conspired with the _Winchesters_ to take down Lilith and stop Lucifer from being freed. Lucifer. Our _creator_. Those aren’t petty crimes down below, Dean, and after a while he didn’t even try to cover his tracks. He doesn’t have a whole lot of friends down below right now, and the only reason he hasn’t been outright _terminated_ yet is because he was Crowley’s pet project and the bastard’s been itching to take control for a long time. All this chaos is giving him the perfect opportunity to Castiel has a few extra days to get a head start.

“So yes, Castiel left to put some distance between us all and try to salvage the situation in his favor before all of hell gets itself organized and makes him public enemy number one.”

Ruby glared at him for another minute and then left with a slam of the motel door that left the room feeling ominously empty.

He apologized to her later because Sam made him, and he stopped grimacing at the mention of Castiel because it did nothing but annoy Ruby all over again. He hadn’t known they’d been that good of friends; that they were friends at all.

“He never ratted me out,” Ruby told him when they reached the safehouse Castiel had told Dean about a few days later. “He could’ve given me away to Lilith and Alastair and all of them. Could’ve had me be a target right along with him. But he didn’t.”

He thought it should all have made more sense after that.

It really didn’t.

It took a while, but slowly Dean began to feel better. He didn’t tell Sam the things that had happened in hell – the things he’d _done_ down there. Those were things that he never wanted his little brother to know, things he never wanted _anyone_ to know. Dean found a surprising confidant in his brother’s favorite demon; Ruby didn’t put up with his shit and forced him to confront things he otherwise would have allowed to fester inside of himself. Bobby did the same when he had time to make the trip out to them. It was good to see his face again, to let someone else take charge and make decisions for a while.

In the end, it was probably better for him.

He didn’t try to get in contact with the Novaks, though Sam spoke to them for a short while when they called to thank them one day. Dean wasn’t sure how they got the number.

Two weeks in, Sam pulled Dean aside and the older brother had a moment of panic when Sam told him about having dreams again, half-remembered as they were.

“I think he’ll come back, Dean,” Sam had reassured. “He…I saw him and Jimmy before. A few days before it happened, in the car. I had a dream and I think he gave Jimmy back there after we won too. And…and in the next one he called himself a- a phoenix, or something. Like this was supposed to happen.”

Dean went out that night; wandered the fields and woods around Castiel’s safehouse until his feet felt like they were stuck with a thousand knives and his eyes drooped so much he was amazed he could keep them open at all.

He came back the next morning and neither brother said a thing about it. Sam didn’t mention his dreams again, but Dean felt his eyes on him more often after that, watching, studying, waiting to see if Dean was going to break again.

They packed up their stuff and locked the safehouse up after a few weeks of down time and much-needed recuperation. Ruby packed up her things and tagged along for the ride.

The Impala, gleaming and black, sped down the highway towards Windom. Towards ghouls and the Milligans and a town that didn’t know what was lurking in its shadows. A town that Castiel had decided to grace with the gift of his final request.

If he was honest, the older Winchester wasn’t sure what to expect in the coming months. He wasn’t sure if he should be hopeful or apprehensive, optimistic or grim. But he wanted to be hopeful; hopeful for this case and those to follow, for his brother’s full recovery. Maybe he’d even be hopeful that they’d all be able to get a little bit of lasting happiness someday.

More than anything, he wanted to be hopeful that he’d see Castiel again. After all, the guy was too slippery for anyone to catch him when he didn’t want to be found.

They’d meet again, Dean decided, even if he had to summon the bastard himself.

Dean was certain of it.


End file.
